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Jack brought the drink to his mouth and downed it in three long gulps； the gin
highballing down his throat like a moving van in a tunnel； exploding in his
stomach； rebounding up to his brain in one leap where it seized hold of him with
a final convulsing fit of the shakes。
When that passed off； he felt fine。
〃Do it again； please；〃 he said； and pushed the empty glass toward Lloyd。
〃Yes； sir；〃 Lloyd said； taking the glass。 Lloyd looked perfectly normal again。
The olive…skinned man had put his 。32 away。 The woman on his right was staring
into her singapore sling again。 One breast was wholly exposed now； leaning on
the bar's leather buffer。 A vacuous crooning noise came from her slack mouth。
The loom of conversation had begun again； weaving and weaving。
His new drink appeared in front of him。
〃 Muchas gracias； Lloyd；〃 he said； picking it up。
〃Always a pleasure to serve you； Mr。 Torrance。〃 Lloyd smiled。
〃You were always the best of them； Lloyd。〃
〃Why； thank you； sir。〃
He drank slowly this time； letting it trickle down his throat； tossing a few
peanuts down the chute for good luck。
The drink was gone in no time； and he ordered another。 Mr。 President； I have
met the martians and am pleased to report they are friendly。 While Lloyd fixed
another； he began searching his pockets for a quarter to put in the jukebox。 He
thought of Danny again； but Danny's face was pleasantly fuzzed and nondescript
now。 He had hurt Danny once； but that had been before he had learned how to
handle his liquor。 Those days were behind him now。 He would never hurt Danny
again。
Not for the world。
》
CONVERSATIONS AT THE PARTY
He was dancing with a beautiful woman。
He had no idea what time it was； how long he had spent in the Colorado Lounge
or how long he had been here in the ballroom。 Time had ceased to matter。
He had vague memories： listening to a man who had once been a successful radio
ic and then a variety star in TV； infant days telling a very long and very
hilarious joke about incest between Siamese twins； seeing the woman in the harem
pants and the sequined bra do a slow and sinuous striptease to some bumping…and…
grinding music from the jukebox （it seemed it had been David Rose's theme music
from The Stripper）； crossing the lobby as one of three； the other two men in
evening dress that predated the twenties； all of them singing about the stiff
patch on Rosie O'Grady's knickers。 He seemed to remember looking out the big
double doors and seeing Japanese lanterns strung in graceful； curving arcs that
followed the sweep of the driveway — they gleamed in soft pastel colors like
dusky jewels。 The big glass globe on the porch ceiling was on； and night…insects
bumped and flittered against it； and a part of him； perhaps the last tiny spark
of sobriety； tried to tell him that it was 6 A。M。 on a morning in December。 But
time had been canceled。
（The arguments against insanity fall through with a soft shurring sound/layer
on layer 。。。）
Who was that？ Some poet he had read as an undergraduate？ Some undergraduate
poet who was now selling washers in Wausau or insurance in Indianapolis？ Perhaps
an original thought？ Didn't matter。
（The night is dark/ the stars are high/ a disembodied custard pie/ is floating
in the sky 。。。）
He giggled helplessly。
〃What's funny； honey？〃
And here he was again； in the ballroom。 The chandelier was lit and couples
were circling all around them； some in costume and some not； to the smooth
sounds of some postwar band — but which war？ Can you be certain？
No； of course not。 He was certain of only one thing： he was dancing with a
beautiful woman。
She was tall and auburn…haired； dressed in clinging white satin； and she was
dancing close to him； her breasts pressed softly and sweetly against his chest。
Her white hand was entwined in his。 She was wearing a small and sparkly cat's…
eye mask and her hair had been brushed over to one side in a soft and gleaming
fall that seemed to pool in the valley between their touching shoulders。 Her
dress was full…skirted but be could feel her thighs against his legs from time
to time and had bee more and more sure that she was smooth…and…powdered naked
under her dress；
（the better to feet your erection with； my dear）
and he was sporting a regular railspike。 If it offended her she concealed it
well； she snuggled even closer to him。
〃Nothing funny； honey；〃 he said； and giggled again。
〃I like you；〃 she whispered； and he thought that her scent was like lilies；
secret and hidden in cracks furred with green moss — places where sunshine is
short and shadows long。
〃I like you； too。〃
〃We could go upstairs； if you want。 I'm supposed to be with Harry； but he'll
never notice。 He's too busy teasing poor Roger。〃
The number ended。 There was a spatter of applause and then the band swung into
〃Mood Indigo〃 with scarcely a pause。
Jack looked over her bare shoulder and saw Derwent standing by the refreshment
table。 The girl in the sarong was with him。 There were bottles of champagne in
ice buckets ranged along the white lawn covering the table； and Derwent held a
foaming bottle in his hand。 A knot of people had gathered； laughing。 In front of
Derwent and the girl in the sarong； Roger capered grotesquely on all fours； his
tail dragging limply behind him。 He was barking。
〃Speak； boy； speak！〃 Harry Derwent cried。
〃Rowf！ Rowf！〃 Roger responded。 Everyone clapped； a few of the men whistled。
〃Now sit up。 Sit up； doggy！〃
Roger clambered up on his haunches。 The muzzle of his mask was frozen in its
eternal snarl。 Inside the eyeholes； Roger's eyes rolled with frantic； sweaty
hilarity。 He held his arms out； dangling the paws。
〃Rowf！ Rowf！〃
Derwent upended the bottle of champagne and it fell in a foamy Niagara onto
the upturned mask。 Roger made frantic slurping sounds； and everyone applauded
again。 Some of the women screamed with laughter。
〃Isn't Harry a card？〃 his partner asked him； pressing close again。 〃Everyone
says so。 He's AC/DC； you know。 Poor Roger's only DC。 He spent a weekend with
Harry in Cuba once 。。。 oh； months ago。 Now he follows Harry everywhere；
wagging his little tail behind him。〃
She giggled。 The shy scent of lilies drifted up。
〃But of course Harry never goes back for seconds 。。。 not on his DC side；
anyway 。。。 and Roger is just wild。 Harry told him if he came to the masked
ball as a doggy； a cute little doggy； he might reconsider； and Roger is such a
silly that he 。。。〃
The number ended。 There was more applause。 The band members were filing down
for a break。
〃Excuse me； sweetness；〃 she said。 〃There's someone I just roust 。。。 Darla！
Darla； you dear girl； where have you been？〃
She wove her way into the eating； drinking throng and he gazed after her
stupidly； wondering how they had happened to be dancing together in the first
place。 He didn't remember。 Incidents seemed to have occurred with no
connections。 First here； then there； then everywhere。 His head was spinning。 He
smelled lilies and juniper berries。 Up by the refreshment table Derwent was now
holding a tiny triangular sandwich over Roger's head and urging him； to the
general merriment of the onlookers； to do a somersault。 The dogmask was turned
upward。 The silver sides of the dog costume bellowsed in and out。 Roger suddenly
leaped； tucking his head under； and tried to roll in mid…air。 His leap was too
low and too exhausted； he landed awkwardly on his back； rapping his head smartly
on the tiles。 A hollow groan drifted out of the dogmask。
Derwent led the applause。 〃Try again； doggy！ Try again！〃 The onlookers took up
the chant — try again； try again — and Jack staggered off the other way； feeling
vaguely ill。
He almost fell over the drinks cart that was being wheeled along by a low…
browed man in a white mess jacket。 His foot rapped the lower chromed shelf of
the cart； the bottles and siphons on top chattered together musically。
〃Sorry；〃 Jack said thickly。 He suddenly felt closed