the

    store t seemed a funny one to take a hem off hungrily.

    Singer   by t before able. t as Jake  it, urned on and tcer beside table. t on t seemed t te  come in. o table and puso one side.

    s, and o question Jake about  t on table. For ternoon, he said.

    tto  and find an octopus and put socks on it.’

    te smiled, but Jake could not tell if   t s tried to understand tumped. tly.

    I got a job ternoon  of so run the flying-jinny.’

    te seemed not at all surprised.  into t and broug a bottle of  t  room. t above ion of ure of iced many times before on tcin mugs—acraggling almost up to e o  ering again the kaleidoscope of drunkenness.

    Excitement made acremble jerkily. ened a wide, searching gaze on Singer.

    I bet Im tos been mad— Im

    talking about really mean mad—for ten solid long years. I damn near got in a fig a little  seems to me like I mig dont know.’

    Singer pusotle and rubbed top of his head.

    You see, its like Im ted man. I been in some of t libraries in try. I read. I read all time. I read books t tell t trutcase I ein Veblen and sucers as tudy t. I knoed on every page. to begin h I like words.

    Dialectic materialism—Jesuitical prevarication— Jake rolled ty—teleological propensity.’

    te wiped ly folded handkerchief.

    But ting at is t make tand, w does he do?’

    Singer reac to t it firmly into Jakes bruised  drunk,  spilled drops of rousers. But listen! ion. ttle of grape s in