Page:Levenson - Butterfly Man.djvu/218

216. As the taxi moved through trafic to his hotel, he turned to Joe.

"I'm going to taper off on the booze," he said.

"In Chicago?" Joe asked.

"Why not? Norah's been complaining. And I'm getting jittery."

"But we've got things to do in Chicago," Joe said.

Monday morning's orchestra rehearsal was over when Norah cornered Ken in the stage door alley.

"You were 'way off the tempo, Ken," she complained.

"I never noticed it. I'm sorry, Norrie."

"I wouldn't mind but—"

"I'll be all right tonight. I haven't had an eyeopener. I'm still tasting blue, black and brown blotting paper."

She took his hand. "Ken," she said. "Why are you changing so? You're somehow not the same as you used to be."

With the simple sincerity of a small boy who is being scolded, he asked: "In what way, Norrie?"

"I always smell liquor on your breath, Ken," she said. "Why do you drink?"

"I never drink in the theatre," he defensively explained. "I was only kidding about that eye-opener."

"But, Ken, you go with such funny people. I hear such queer stories about you. And you always say such brutal things now—as if your mind was changing, too. Why, you haven't said a sensible thing to me in weeks."

I'm sorry.

"This morning," she continued, "you are a little bit the way you used to be. Your eyes are quieter. You don't laugh all the time. You—" She turned away.

"I don't know," he said.