rolled his eyes aloft with an expression of innocent debauchery. Then he winked heavily at Eugene.
The deck of the Oregon.
“What’s that for?” said Louise, pointing to the outline in nails of Admiral Dewey’s foot.
“That’s where he stood during the fight,” said the sailor.
Louise put her small foot within the print of the greater one. The sailor winked at Eugene. You may fire when you are ready, Gridley.
“She’s a nice girl,” said Eugene.
“Yeah,” said Max Isaacs. “She’s a nice lady.” He craned his neck awkwardly, and squinted. “About how old is she?”
“She’s eighteen,” said Eugene.
Malvin Bowden stared at him.
“You’re crazy!” said he. “She’s twenty-one.”
“No,” said Eugene, “she’s eighteen. She told me so.”
“I don’t care,” said Malvin Bowden, “she’s no such thing. She’s twenty-one. I reckon I ought to know. My folks have known her for five years. She had a baby when she was eighteen.”
“Aw!” said Max Isaacs.
“Yes,” said Malvin Bowden, “a travelling man got her in trouble. Then he ran away.”
“Aw!” said Max Isaacs. “Without marryin’her or anything?”
“He didn’t do nothing for her. He ran away,” said Malvin Bowden. “Her people are raising the kid now.”
“Great Day!” said Max Isaacs slowly. Then, sternly, he added, “A man who’d do a thing like that ought to be shot.”
“You’re right!” said Malvin Bowden.
They loafed along the Battery, along the borders of ruined Camelot.
“Those are nice old places,” said Max Isaacs. “They’ve been good houses in their day.”
He looked greedily at wrought-iron gateways; the old lust of his childhood for iron-scraps awoke.
