Page:Solo (1924).pdf/224

 Flippancy, Paul felt, was what his friend needed to bring him out of his despondency. "A sailor doesn't set a very high value on his virtue," he laughed.

Pat, he knew, did—but Paul could respect a point of view he didn't share.

"Well, I don't want to cramp your style any—only don't get yourself talked about."

"That—from you! What about your antics, the topic of the town!"

"It's a different kind of antics and a different kind of talk, see. My reputation's A-one."

Paul was tickled at the literalness of Pat's interpretations. "I promise that the firm won't get into bad odour through me," he said.

"Don't go losing your head, then."

"Nor my heart nor my money—at bridge. I'll try to make on all three scores: head, heart, and pocket. You'll see."

At last Pat rallied, and suddenly laughed. "Doggone, I half believe you," he confessed.

"I should hope you did! This time next year you and Aïda will be dashing around in a shiny car, fairly smelling the poor people."

"It'll be a partnership car."

"I've told you I'm not out for a partnership."

"What the devil are you out for?"

"I don't quite know. Certainly you wouldn't understand if I tried to tell you—even though you are a romantic Irishman."

"Then good night, and to hell with you," growled Patrick.

"Ditto to that," said Paul. "May I take Aïda to bed with me to-night?"

"No, you got a damn sight too many Fraus as it is," and the door closed with a snap.

In his own room Paul recalled the old Viennese quan-