King Cole by W.R. Burnett Page B

face with her fingertips. Suddenly she drew away and sat up.
    “Here we are. Third house on the right. I live on the third floor. It’s kind of a dump, but what can I do? Gee, I was out of work for two months. Was I broke! I got to go, Governor.”
    Read was heated now. He drew her back for another kiss. Barney drove slowly along the curb, looking for the number; finally, he got out his flashlight. Presently, he stopped the car.
    The girl pulled away, laughing a little.
    “Don’t you ever let yourself get broke again,” said Read, feeling very magnanimous. “You don’t need to worry about money. Just let me know.”
    The girl sat up abruptly.
    “You and Mr. Upham have got the wrong idea about me. I’m not that way.”
    “What way?”
    “Well, you know. I do need money. Who doesn’t? But I won’t make it that way.”
    “Don’t be silly,” said Read, sharply. “I didn’t mean that.” He dropped his hands and moved back from the girl.
    “Oh, excuse me,” she said in a very contrite voice. “Are you sore? Please don’t be sore. This has been just like a dream to me.”
    Read relented.
    “Maybe I didn’t put it in the right way. I mean, don’t worry about being broke. If you get broke, I’ll be glad to help you. You could pay it back.” Read felt that he was behaving like a fool; and it was a rather unusual feeling for him, as he had always managed his life so carefully. Let the girl go. Forget her. She was such an ordinary little girl.
    Kitten took his face between her hands and kissed him.
    “There! That’s for being so sweet. Please don’t be sore. If you knew what I’ve got to put up with all the time. Them dirty clucks at the hotel! I could be on Easy Street to hear them tell it. But they really think I ought to give them a good time for a pair of stockings or a new hat.”
    Read winced. He was just like the rest. Why try to pretend otherwise?
    “I’m not like that,” he said.
    “No, I don’t think you are. All the same you’d like a good time, I think.”
    Read flushed.
    “Naturally.”
    Barney hesitated, then opened the door. Read’s lips tightened. Was Barney trying to look after him, too?
    “Oh, thanks,” said Kitten, as Barney helped her out.
    Read got out also. He walked up to the old dark ramshackle frame house with the girl. They kissed in the shadow of the porch. Kitten was warm and clinging, but Read suddenly let her go. The gin was beginning to wear off; he felt very tired and very much ashamed of himself.
    “Well, I’m going.”
    Kitten clung to his hand.
    “Will I see you again? Don’t answer. I know I won’t. But I’m going to pretend.”
    Read turned and walked toward the car. He heard Kitten sob, then she ran across the porch and into the house.
    Barney was holding the door open.
    “Some things are confidential,” said Read.
    Barney seemed offended.
    “You don’t have to tell me, Governor.”
    It was after four when Read got home. The house was dark and silent. He went to his room, took off his shoes, coat and vest, and lay down outside the covers. Gradually, he drifted into sleep.

II
    That morning Read felt better than he had expected to, and after he had eaten, he went into the library and in less than an hour had written a complete outline of his Memorial Hall speech. Smiling with satisfaction, he suddenly thought about Kitten. A pleasant glow stole all through him. He felt young, alert, vital; able to cope with the difficulties ahead of him. “I must see her today,” he told himself; then laughing, he went on: “You idiot! Doesn’t it occur to you that you’re the Governor and that you’re trying to get re-elected and that Kitten is a silly little girl, none too fastidious!” He thought about Eileen vaguely, and quickly dismissed her from his mind. Boyle came in with a letter on a tray.
    “Special delivery, Governor.”
    Read took the letter. Boyle went out. Read tore open the envelope without looking at it and