late, and, turning on the light, found Geraldine asleep in his bed. He was so surprised that he could do nothing for a moment but stand in the center of the room and look—first at Geraldine and then at her toilet articles spread over his dresser. He twisted his lips in a wry smile, muttered something to himself, then walked over to the bed and shook her.
“Geraldine, Geraldine,” he called. She awoke quickly and smiled at him.
“Hello. What time is it?”
“Oh,” he returned guardedly, “somewhere after three.”
“Where’ve you been?”
“Playing poker.”
“With whom?”
“Oh, the same gang. But what’s the idea?”
Geraldine wrinkled her brow.
“The idea of what?”
“Of sorta taking possession?”
“Oh,” she seemed enlightened, “I’ve moved to New York.”
It was Alva’s cue to register surprise.
“What’s the matter? You and the old lady fall out?”
“Not at all.”
“Does she know where you are?”
“She knows I'm in New York.”
