Page:Levenson - Butterfly Man.djvu/179

Rh "I don't know what you mean," Ken said, "and I don't care. But I don't want to be the cause of the show's closing."

"Then I'll send it on the road. The show will carry on without you."

"Howard!" Ken cried. "Let's not fool ourselves. Let's live for the present. I don't want to go to Europe. I want to stay in the show, to dance, to drop the mask I've been wearing, to be my own common, vulgar self.

"Go to Europe alone. Send the show on the road. If you can't wait, send for me. I'll come. Until then, let's have a few weeks together here."

"Perhaps you're right," Howard said.

They were silent. The room suddenly was dark.

"Ken," Howard spoke not at all in a voice of his own, "I won't think about the future. These weeks together are all I want. And yet—" Howard's voice died on the word. He caught Ken's hand and held it.

"If this could be just a period that would test us—tell us what we really mean to each other?"

Darkness. The hand drew Ken down to the arm of a chair.

"I'll go to Europe alone." Howard's acquiescence came in a low, almost colorless tone.

"Let's be happy, now. Really happy. Come—"

Ken slipped down into the deep chair.

"For the present," he said, "I'm satisfied. I can drop all the sham—you'll let me—let me be—myself—won't you?"