Page:Levenson - Butterfly Man.djvu/88



SLANTING spring rain fell upon San Francisco, flowing in nearly opaque streams against the windows of the hotel. Rain, Ken felt, was good after so many days of monotonous sunshine. The half light of late afternoon softened the skyline. The rain made buildings tremble and shiver, washed the streets with pools of silver and brown.

"I've kept away from you, Ken," she was saying. "Don't you really know why?"

He lay on the bed. She stood over him. "For three months I've kept away from you. I can't tell you how many times I wanted to chuck the whole thing. I stuck to it for your sake. I wanted to see you get a date like this."

"I know," he said.

"You know nothing," she shot the words at him viciously. "You'll be a big success some day. You can drop everything else in the world and dance. All you care about is that body of yours and what kind of knots you can twist it into."

He sat up. "But why bring that up now?" he asked. "We went over great this afternoon."

"Aw, for Christ's sake," she said, sitting down beside him, "you don't think the dough I'm getting this week means anything to me. I can get money without dancing—and I hate dancing."

"You scare me, Nita," he said and his voice quavered a little. "I was pretty happy to get this engagement. Coming