unnaturally as he walked. When he noticed his companion smiling at Gaylord, he glared back at Gaylord as if he hated him.
"Get a load of the cute new faggot in town," the masculine one said, punching the other's side. "You ought to like him. Look at his basket." He looked at Gaylord again, said, "Hello, Babe … Where ya going?"
The feminine boy grabbed the other's arm and demanded, "Stop flirting, Jim … You know I'm not interested in anyone but you … but I've got my doubts about you." He looked at Gaylord, who had said nothing, and said in a high falsetto voice: "Run along, Mary … Get yourself another husband … This one is mine. And I'm going to keep him too." He put an arm through the other's and with a little push, said, "Come on, Jim …"
"Don't push me … God damn it …" He pulled away from the dainty boy's arm. "I guess I can talk to anyone I want to … Ya new here … huh, Babe?" he grinned at Gaylord.
For Gaylord, it would have relieved his feelings if he could vanish from die spot. He tried to by walking away. "Hey …" the masculine boy yelled at him … "Where ya going?"
"I've got a date," Gaylord said and walked on … but he heard the feminine one say … "I just don't know what I'm going to do with you, Jim Page. You're after every belle in town or they're after you. You're just after …"
Gaylord heard this much before the voice trailed off into space. He looked around to see if they were still there, but they had vanished in the throng of people. The incident had not caused him to become frightened. In fact, he had rather enjoyed it. He wished he had enough nerve to wear eyeshadow. It sure did make one's eyes dreamy. Still, he didn't want to look like the boy who had just passed. Then he decided that eyeshadow was for girls and he would be lots better off without it.
"Faggot," he thought, perplexed. "That boy called me a cute faggot. I wonder what he meant? I wish Bob was here; he'd know. I don't think Glenn would … He's dumb like me."
From Canal he turned down Rue Bourbon. It rang loud with the noises of Dixieland jazz bands and barkers, and smelled of urine and beer. He looked into the crowded Absinthe House … noting the
