streets.
Youre too much, smiling and starting to walk up the path to Fifth Avenue.
Please dont mock me, you might be accosted by ruffians. She continued laughing, and he bowed low and gestured with his hands. At least allow me to protect you, me lady.
Now youre calling me names, laughing out loud.
Well, with a hurt expression on his face, if you wont allow me to call the coach, how about a rickshaw—looking into her eyes with an expression of mock seriousness on his face— a bicycle—she nodding her head and chuckling—a skateboard —both smiling, Harry spreading his arms—how about a piggyback?
Thanks, but no thanks. I think it would be safer if I crossed the street on my own two legs.
O.K., laughing. Do you usually sit by the lake at lunch time?
Uhhhmmmm, shrugging, it all depends.
Well, why dont we make it tomorrow, the same time, same bench?
You never can tell, shrugging, smiling, if the weathers nice.
O, it will be, I guarantee it.
I have to go, smiling and joining the crowd crossing the street.
Harry watched and as she turned before going into her building, he waved, returning her smile, then started back to the office.
(22)
He was much more animated, and felt looser, on the way back to the office than he had been just an hour before. He got back to the office ten minutes late, but did not notice the time and got involved with his work and did not give another thought to whatever-her-name-is for the remainder
of the day.
The following day Harry strolled over to the park and saw whats-her-name sitting on the bench. Krist, she must really be bugged with her old man. Harry smiled to himself and strolled down the path to the bench. Excuse me, madam, but would you be so kind as to allow a weary proletarian to share this bench with you? She looked up, annoyed, then suddenly broke into a huge smile, shook her head and laughed. Whats so funny?
She shook her head and continued to laugh for another moment. You just dont look like a proletarian.
He adopted an attitude and expression of mock injury and pouted, You hurt me to the quick. After all, while she giggled, its better to be a proletarian than a codfish. She continued giggling and waved at him and shook her head, and his face cracked into a smile and he laughed as he sat down next to her.
By the way, my name is Tom, whats yours, laughing girl? smiling and looking into her eyes.
Laughing girl? Now isnt that something? I havent been accused of that in a long time, but I guess I have been laughing.
Yep, you sure have. Just like a proletarian. Before Harry finished the word she was laughing and fumbling around in her pocketbook to get a handkerchief, Harry watching her and laughing. Eventually she sat up straight and took a few deep breaths, dabbing at her eyes and nose with her handkerchief. She blinked a few times then turned to Harry, O, my God, I laughed so hard Im in pain. My muscles are killing me.
You must be out of practice.
Yeah, I guess so, wiping her eyes and nose, then putting her handkerchief back in her pocketbook, then smiling, care-
(23)
fully, at Harry. No more, O.K.? I don't think I can stand it.
O.K., smiling, but you still havent told me your name. I guess I/ll just have to go on guessing.
No, no. Please, Harry chuckling, my name is Mary.
Well, thats better. I/d feel funny calling you buddy or Mack or—
She started chuckling and put her hands up in front of him. You promised. No more.
O.K., raising his right hand, no more. So, youre Mary and you work across the street.
Thats right, nodding, I'm a secretary. And your name is Tom and you work—
Down the street. Armstrong and Davis. A small engineering firm. Mostly consultants in highly specialized areas.
O, that sounds exciting. . . .
They
continued to chat until Mary suddenly looked at her watch and said it was ten after, I have to get back to the office.
That late, eh? I/d better get going
Youre too much, smiling and starting to walk up the path to Fifth Avenue.
Please dont mock me, you might be accosted by ruffians. She continued laughing, and he bowed low and gestured with his hands. At least allow me to protect you, me lady.
Now youre calling me names, laughing out loud.
Well, with a hurt expression on his face, if you wont allow me to call the coach, how about a rickshaw—looking into her eyes with an expression of mock seriousness on his face— a bicycle—she nodding her head and chuckling—a skateboard —both smiling, Harry spreading his arms—how about a piggyback?
Thanks, but no thanks. I think it would be safer if I crossed the street on my own two legs.
O.K., laughing. Do you usually sit by the lake at lunch time?
Uhhhmmmm, shrugging, it all depends.
Well, why dont we make it tomorrow, the same time, same bench?
You never can tell, shrugging, smiling, if the weathers nice.
O, it will be, I guarantee it.
I have to go, smiling and joining the crowd crossing the street.
Harry watched and as she turned before going into her building, he waved, returning her smile, then started back to the office.
(22)
He was much more animated, and felt looser, on the way back to the office than he had been just an hour before. He got back to the office ten minutes late, but did not notice the time and got involved with his work and did not give another thought to whatever-her-name-is for the remainder
of the day.
The following day Harry strolled over to the park and saw whats-her-name sitting on the bench. Krist, she must really be bugged with her old man. Harry smiled to himself and strolled down the path to the bench. Excuse me, madam, but would you be so kind as to allow a weary proletarian to share this bench with you? She looked up, annoyed, then suddenly broke into a huge smile, shook her head and laughed. Whats so funny?
She shook her head and continued to laugh for another moment. You just dont look like a proletarian.
He adopted an attitude and expression of mock injury and pouted, You hurt me to the quick. After all, while she giggled, its better to be a proletarian than a codfish. She continued giggling and waved at him and shook her head, and his face cracked into a smile and he laughed as he sat down next to her.
By the way, my name is Tom, whats yours, laughing girl? smiling and looking into her eyes.
Laughing girl? Now isnt that something? I havent been accused of that in a long time, but I guess I have been laughing.
Yep, you sure have. Just like a proletarian. Before Harry finished the word she was laughing and fumbling around in her pocketbook to get a handkerchief, Harry watching her and laughing. Eventually she sat up straight and took a few deep breaths, dabbing at her eyes and nose with her handkerchief. She blinked a few times then turned to Harry, O, my God, I laughed so hard Im in pain. My muscles are killing me.
You must be out of practice.
Yeah, I guess so, wiping her eyes and nose, then putting her handkerchief back in her pocketbook, then smiling, care-
(23)
fully, at Harry. No more, O.K.? I don't think I can stand it.
O.K., smiling, but you still havent told me your name. I guess I/ll just have to go on guessing.
No, no. Please, Harry chuckling, my name is Mary.
Well, thats better. I/d feel funny calling you buddy or Mack or—
She started chuckling and put her hands up in front of him. You promised. No more.
O.K., raising his right hand, no more. So, youre Mary and you work across the street.
Thats right, nodding, I'm a secretary. And your name is Tom and you work—
Down the street. Armstrong and Davis. A small engineering firm. Mostly consultants in highly specialized areas.
O, that sounds exciting. . . .
They
continued to chat until Mary suddenly looked at her watch and said it was ten after, I have to get back to the office.
That late, eh? I/d better get going
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