Page:Jay Little - Maybe—Tomorrow.pdf/191

 keen expression. The eyes were mysterious and shadowed, and the plentiful dark hair was the same as Blake's, even to the strand glistening over the forehead. His skin was darker, almost chocolate, there in the shadows, and when he smiled, his teeth were even and very white. His grip had been firm and warming, his voice good-natured, and attractive.

"I'm sorry I'm not your friend from home …"

"You sure do look like him … Bob's about your build and has the same coloring."

"I hope he's a good friend."

"He's the dear——" Gaylord stopped. "He's the best there is," he stammered.

"Then I'm glad I remind you of him. It's wonderful to have dear friends … They are so hard to find at times."

"They sure are."

Paul Boudreaux pulled out a metal case. Opened it and handed it to Gaylord. "Cigarette?"

"No thanks."

Paul took one from the case and lighted it. He smoked in silence for a second while he studied the boy frankly. Then he said, "How about a drink? A drink to this friend of yours … You said his name was Bob?"

"Yes."

"How about a drink to Bob?"

"Okay … I'd like to very much, Mr. B …" Gaylord laughed. "I've forgotten your name."

"Boudreaux … Paul Boudreaux … Forget the last name … every one else does … Paul's fine … Just remember Paul." He grinned. He let the cigarette smoke cloud his thoughtful eyes a moment.

"I'll remember Paul all right." He took this information into his mind carefully, as if he were afraid he'd forget it. Gaylord asked, "Where shall we go? In here?" He pointed to the Absinthe House.

"My favorite spot is right down this street about three blocks. I believe you'd like it better than the Absinthe House. It's kind of dull but this favorite place of mine is always interesting." Again he puffed at the cigarette. "Would you like to go there?"