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Show 1 FIT T I nI Ffour flights up TO HEAVEfJ 1 11 I IVl IVMN By FREDERICK LAING F " j j Corner 8L- JJUg ing at Peggy, "I do her a favor and she makes fun of my plumbing." "I think it's nice if a man knows how to fix the plumbing," Peggy said. She glanced from the thin hands to the thin, pale face. "I really real-ly do." He looked pleased. "I'm a painter, paint-er, too," he told her. "Look, I painted paint-ed this china closet. What do you think of the shade?" It made her feel so flattered to have a writer showing off for her benefit. "It's a lovely color," she told him. And then she could feel Bill's eyes on her. "Isn't it, Bill?" "Yeah," Bill said dryly, "blue.'' Peggy winced. Well, that proved he wasn't color blind. i "It's the same shade as your hat," this writer was saying. She blushed. "Think of a man's noticing that." "Yeah," Bill said. The way he said it, it wasn't exactly a compliment. the top of the doorway as they went in together. "This is a dog house," he said. Peggy was in such a daze she thought he said, "Doll's house," at first. "Isn't it," she said excitedly And then, seeing his expression, "What?" "A dog house," he said. "Look. I can almost touch the ceiling. Listen Lis-ten Peggy. I've learned something about buildings in the elevator business. busi-ness. Do you know how old this house is? Why, it was a dump when they built the Brooklyn bridge." Peggy gasped. "He heard you!" Suddenly all the thrill was gone and her heart felt like lead. Her eyes were blinking as she turned and went back into the living room. Bill followed behind her, stooping with an exaggerated wariness as he went through the doorway. Her fingers were twisting the engagement en-gagement ring nervously around 1 1 ' ' TnHE landlady was smiling at them A like the wolf in Red Ridinghood. i "You look kinda young to be a i married couple." "Oh we aren't married yet," Peggy Peg-gy blurted out. She felt Bill's fin-2 fin-2 f gars tighten on her arm. ' "So you better show us that apart ment before she changes her mind," he added. She glanced up at him with a ner-I ner-I vous little smile, feeling ashamed, , wishing she hadn't let him read her thoughts. The landlady laughed and Peggy laughed louder than she'd wanted to. "We want two rooms," Bill said, "two rooms and a decent kitchen. And not facing on the street, please. Too many trucks in Greenwich Village Vil-lage to suit me." "I adore the Village," Peggy said 1 quickly. The trouble was, the words seemed to Jump out before she knew 2 what she was going to say. Bill stared up at a long crack in 3 the ceiling. 'Sure, we adore the Vil- 4 lage." 5 She pinched him when the land- 6 lady wasn't looking and he gave her hair a tug, and everything was all right again. They followed the landlady land-lady up the stairs. She had just the thing for them, she said. "A couple 9 of kids like you won't mind walking up four flights." 1 "Oh, no," Peggy answered. Then she glanced at Bill. "Well, would 1 we?" Bill looked up at the ceiling again. "Oh, no." 1 She knew what he was thinking. And it was true. She didn't want to 2 live in a place thart had elevators. Bad enough to have him come home talking about them every night. Bad 1 enough to have to answer the neigh- 1 bors' questions with, "My husband? 3 Oh he ... er, sells elevators " She ' could see them lifting their eyebrows. eye-brows. "Elevators? Pardon me for ' smiling, Mrs. Bill, but I never knew , any one had to sell elevators. I al- ' j ways thought they . . . just hap- i pened." , No, definitely not a place with ele- J ; vators. She didn't want to be re minded of her husband's business every time she went in and out of i the house. "I think it's nice if a man knows how to fix the plumbing," Peggy said. She glanced from the thin hands to the thin, pale face. "I really do." and around. One thing sure, she wasn't going to marry an elevator salesman. Or any other kind of a salesman, for that matter. "Listen, honey," Bill said gloomily. gloom-ily. "If you really like the place." It didn't matter. Nothing mattered mat-tered now, really. Just to get out. To get away. To get out of everything every-thing as painlessly as possible. "I guess you have to be a writer or something to appreciate it," she told him, forcing out the words. She glanced at the pale young man and managed to smile. "A writer or an artist." uH I don't know," the young man protested with a shrug. "What kind of stuff do you write?" Bill asked grudgingly. "Huh?" the young man said. The landlady laughed. "Him? He's no writer. He's my son." And she added proudly, "he sells vacuum vac-uum cleaners." Run out of the room. Run down the stairs, she told herself. But Bill's arm went around her shoulders, shoul-ders, steadying her, and his arm felt strong and tender. "My man is a salesman, too," she said. And she held her head up. "He sells elevators." "If you want to see the apartment," apart-ment," the landlady began sharply. Then she pulled a smile over her false teeth. "This here's the kitchen. kit-chen. Bill said, "You mean the apartment apart-ment opens into the kitchen?" Behind his glasses, the young man's light blue eyes were looking amused. "Oh you'll get used to it. And it'll give your friends something some-thing to talk about." "He's some little talker himself, isn't he?" the landlady said. "I think he's wonderful," Peggy said, laughing. He certainly knew how to make a person feel perfectly at ease. Then she got a look at Bill's face. She began to feel miserable. If only he wouldn't look like that. Like a . . . She tried to push the thought out of her mind but it came right back again. . . . Like a disappointed dis-appointed salesman. I'm sure you'll make a mistake if you don't buy our elevators, Mr. Kotch. The landlady led them into the living room, and when Peggy saw it, her heart sat up and begged. Her eyes drank in the booxcase that covered a whole wall, the original orig-inal paintings on unframed canvas, the oversized fireplace with thiee painted masks above it. And there was a table with a typewriter and a lots of papers piled-up in careless care-less stacks. What darling taste you have. She almost said it, but she thought about Bill just in the nick of time. "The bedroom's in there," the landlady said. She let Peggy and Bill go into the bedroom by themselves. them-selves. Bill's head almost bumped j The landlady's short, bowed legs 1 j were leading them up the stairs i briskly, showing them how easy it ' ,'.'f was to climb four flights. "You'll i .. ' !; find it nice and quiet here, I'm sure. ' k The gentleman who has it now has , , been there three years. And he's a 1 y , writer." i i i ? "A writer?" Peggy had kind of a 1 funny feeling all of a sudden. Like she'd gone up in an elevator too 1 ( fast. A writer. That was what she'd i always thought she'd marry some 1 day. Or maybe an artist. Somebody like that. i Peggy I Intrigued j I They were walking up the last ! : flight now and some one upstairs j opened a door. Don't let him be any ; 1 better looking than Bill, she begged. ' As it happened, he wasn't. He .Yas ! i just a pale young man with glasses. : - He stood there in his slacks and j blue shirt and he looked . . . well, on second glance he looked . . . dif- ! 1 ferent. Nobody would ever take him for a life guard. That's what she'd K thought Bill was that first time, i j when they'd met on the beach. ; j "Come right in." The young man j waved something at them. It turned out to be a monkey wrench, of all things. "Don't mind me, I'm just : j the plumber." ; Peggy laughed. It was so unex- pected, it made her feel good. "The plumber," she said, as their eyes ' met, "Imagine." i "Some plumber," the landlady said. "That's gratitude," he said, look- I . |