Marty felt very dizzy and very very good. He was sure that this girl was a sincere and honest girl who had had some bad breaks in life. She had told him a little of her story, and it was a sad one. She had married much too young and her husband had left her after a year or so. She had had a baby, but the baby had died and she had gone heavily into debt paying the hospital expenses. That had been five years ago, but she still hadn’t recovered from debt, and she was forced to live in a cheap rooming house while she waited for the man of her life to come along. It was a pitiful story; Marty felt deep sympathy for her, and he was happy that an understanding woman like this was going to be the first one he had had.

They went around the corner and found a liquor store near Eighth Avenue. The store was big and brightly lit and was doing huge volumes of business despite the late hour.

Marty said, “What should I get?”

“Ask for a fifth of bourbon.”

“We were drinking Scotch in there, weren’t we?”

He remembered that it wasn’t considered healthy to mix your drinks in one evening.

But Margie said, “Yeah, but I’m tired of it. Let’s get some bourbon now.”

So he bought a bottle of bourbon. It cost him six dollars, but he didn’t mind. Charge it all off to entertainment, he thought.

Outside, Margie said, “Okay, now we go to my place. It’s just a couple of blocks from here.”

“I can’t wait!”

“You better let me carry the bottle, though. You look kinda wobbly.”

“I’m perfectly sober,” Marty protested.

Her apartment was on 42nd Street past Ninth Avenue, in a very shabby neighborhood. Marty felt pity for her all over again when he saw her little two-room place, with the kitchenette and the cracked mirror and the dingy draperies. How could anyone go on living in a place like this, year after year?

She pulled out a little table and opened the bottle of liquor. Putting two glasses out in front of him, she said, “I’m going inside to change into something more comfortable. You get started on the bourbon while I’m there.”

“I’d rather wait till—”

“No, have a drink.” She poured it for him.

He grinned at her and downed the drink while she went into the other room and closed the door. Bourbon was sweeter than Scotch and burned a little on the way down. He began to feel very strange. But Tony had said, Be a good sport and do a lot of drinking. You can hold it. I’ve seen your kind of physique before. You can take more liquor than you think you can.