Echo began immediately to chatter once again, as if nothing had happened. “Oh, I know one, anyway. This one’s for Annabel when she comes up. The Buckeye China Company’s havin’ this gigantic sale, seen about a dozen big signs on the highway.” She had turned from the mirror and fixed her gaze on something outside the window. Clinton thought her face looked slightly puffed. In spite of a heavy application of powder, there was a darkness showing through under the skin surrounding her eyes; and in the eyes themselves, usually alive with such profound inner brightness, there was an almost beladonna-like glaze that suggested some mild hysteria. She had painted herself with exceptional care, but perhaps somewhat too heavily.

She turned suddenly to Clinton and gave him a big smile, and winked at him. He knew he had been caught staring, and looked quickly at the checkerboard.

“Where’d you move to ?” he said to Ralph.

“Where the hell would I move to?” Ralph said. “I’m in a goddam corner, for Chrisake.”

“And the second thing is,” Echo said, “I had an offer from a Dodge dealer who’ll give me seven hundred and fifty on a trade-in for my limousine.”

“I hope you spit in his eye,” Ralph said.

“Well, I said, ‘Mister, you’re going to have to do better’n that. This car’s a lady and don’t like insults!’ —Course, I wouldn’t sell her, Ralph, you know that. So what if she drinks oil like an elephant? I told him, too, I said, ‘Listen, she drinks oil like an elephant.’ But he don’t care. He just wants to have her settin’ out front, to show off how a Dodge gets to be a million years old without even a whimper. Which is smart on his part. Don’t you think he’s smart?” She walked over to the window and looked down at the street where the old Dodge was parked. Clinton went to the window and stood at her side. She linked her arm in his, and said, “Look at that sweet thing. Now I’m going to say something goofy, but you know, that gorgeous old flivver puts me in mind of the Queen of England. I don’t mean the real queen-queen, but the mamma queen. You know which one? —Listen, if I had to put caviar in her crankcase every ten minutes, I wouldn’t sell her for a million bucks. Now that’s a lie, baby, I would. But you see what I mean?” She turned away from the window. “Now I’m going to play the winner. Who’s the winner, gentlemen? Look out, ‘cause Echo Malvina O’Brien is rollin’ up her sleeves!”

“You play, Ralph,” Clinton said.

“But you won.”

“I want to watch.”

“Well,” Ralph said, resetting the board, “I don’t mind playin’ another game.”

“I just thought of number three,” Echo said. “Now listen, Ralph, this is for you. Mamma’s takin’ up phrenology, and she says you got more on the dime than Albert Schweitzer. You know, Schweitzer! That went to Africa with the mustache? Who Mamma has read every single word of, that’s he’s written.”