her work. She’s an artist.”
“We will now, if you don’t mind, step a goodish way uptown.”
And we took the subway to where Gussie, the human film, was earning his thirty-five per. As luck would have it, we hadn’t been in the place ten minutes when out he came.
“Exhibit B,” I said. “Gussie.”
I don’t quite know what I had expected her to do, but I certainly didn’t expect her to sit there without a word. She did not move a muscle, but just stared at Gussie as he drooled on about the moon. I was sorry for the woman, for it must have been a shock to her to see her only son in a mauve frock coat and a brown top hat, but I thought it best to let her