"No, I'm not a nurse. If you must get up, I'll go out on the balcony while you drape the virile form."
She was entering the balcony through the French window when he asked again; "Who are you?"
"Connie's the name," she said. "Ml tell you the rest later."
"I'm little Mary Sunshine," she smiled at him. "Honestly. Or maybe Lady Bountiful."
"You seem crazier than I am."
"Sensibly mad. Last night I saw a perfectly good young man going to hell. I decided to reform him. That's why I'm here."
She was well dressed, he noted. Tastefully. Simple suit. A touch of color. Her eyes halfway between hazel and green. A thoroughly pleasing smile.
"My name happens to be Leeds. That's unimportant. My father happens to own about seventy-five hat stores."
She moved forward so that she could look squarely into his eyes:
"Is it true?" she asked, "what Harry Hayes said about you?"
"What did he say?"
"That you were always a good dancer, always charming, that you started to go around with … queer folks … and then went completely blotto?"
"He said that?"
"It's true, isn't it?"
Ken did not reply.
"I can't believe you are basically wrong. You're a man. Don't ask me how I know, but I do. I majored in psychology at Columbia. I know the pathological ropes
