second floor of what had once been the palatial town house of Rufus Gardner, one-time "tin king." Blonde Lorelei Swan, who had been a Ziegfeld show girl long ago, now reigned over the mansion. It was a speakeasy. A six piece orchestra energetically played the score of "Sweeter Than Sweet," repeating the tunes again and again. Ken drank champagne cocktails—many of them. Rosemary Rose confessed she liked his curling brown hair. She tried to hold his hand beneath the table. He was embarrassed and ignored her advances. Howard responded to a toast. He was more than a little tight. His tongue, usually held in leash, was free. He called Rosemary his sweet flower pot, his bouquet of womanhood. He pointed to Ken as his pride and his joy—his discovery. Norah sat next to Nellie. Ken kissed her. He kissed Nellie. He was deliriously, wildly happy. After the supper, champagne made feet tingle and bodies pulsate to the rhythm of the music. Ken danced until he was tired. He relaxed into a comfortable leather lounge in the bar. Jules Monroe, even more pallid than usual, sat beside him.
"Do you forgive me?" he asked Ken.
"Of course. Why, Jules, you are terrific. We're all terrific! The show's a success."
"When are you leaving?" whispered Jules. Without waiting for an answer, he continued: "Come with me. We'll have a quiet chat. It's so noisy here."
Ken rose, rocking on his heels. He uttered a low pitched, sharp laugh. "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Lowell," he said. He shook his head pityingly. Then to Monroe's astonishment, he delivered a noisy "bird" straight into the director's face.
Howard leaned against the bar. Ken crossed the room
