"Then--come up an' stay with me. Honest, I'm all right. I can prove it
to you. It'll be doin' me a favor."
"I ought not to, Charlotte."
She threw her arms around him and kissed him. He felt her breath on his
lips and the warmth of her body. "You gotta, kid. You're all I ever had.
Please, please."
Hugo walked up the stairs thoughtfully. In her small room he watched her
disrobe. So willingly now--so eagerly. She turned back the covers of the
bed. "It ain't much of a dump, baby, but I'll make you like it."
Much later, in the abyss of darkness, he heard her voice, sleepy and
still husky. "Say, mister, what's your name?"
In the morning they went down to the boulevard together. The gay débris
of the night before lay in the street, and men were sweeping it away.
But their spirits were high. They had breakfast together in a quiet
enchantment. Once she kissed him.
"Would you like to keep house--for me?" he asked.
"Do you mean it?" She seemed to doubt every instant that good fortune
had descended permanently upon her. She was like a dreamer who
anticipated a sombre awakening even while he clung to the bliss of his
dream.
"Sure, I mean it. I'll get a job and we'll find an apartment and you can
spend your spare time swimming and lying on the beach." He knew a twinge
of unexpected jealousy. "That is, if you'll promise not to look at all
the men who are going to look at you." He was ashamed of that statement.
Charlotte, however, was not sufficiently civilized to be displeased. "Do
you think I'd two-time the first gent that ever worried about what I did
in my spare moments? Why, if you brought home a few bucks to most of the
birds I know, they wouldn't even ask how you earned it--they'd be so
busy lookin' for another girl an' a shot of gin."
"Well--let's go."
Hugo went to one of the largest side shows. After some questioning he
found the manager. "I'm H. Smith," he said, "and I want to apply for a
job."
"Doin' what?"
"This is my wife." The manager stared and nodded. Charlotte took his arm
and rubbed it against herself, thinking, perhaps, that it was a wifely
gesture. Hugo smiled inwardly and then looked at the sprawled form of
the manager. There, to that seamy-faced and dour man who was almost
unlike a human being, he was going to offer the first sale of his
majestic strength. A side-show manager, sitting behind a dirty desk in a
dirty building.
"A strong-man act," Hugo said.
Charlotte tittered. She thought that the bravado of her new friend was
over-stepping the limits of good sense. The manager sat up. "I'd like to
have a good strong man, yes. The show needs one. But you're not the
bird. You haven't got the beef. Go over and watch that damned German
work."
Hugo bent over and fastened one hand on the back of the chair on which
the manager sat. Without evidence of effort he lifted the chair and its
occupant high over his head.
"For Christ's sake, let me down," the manager said.
Hugo swung him through the air in a wide arc. "I say, mister, that I'm
three times stronger than that German. And I want your job. If I don't
look strong enough, I'll wear some padded tights. And I'll give you a
show that'll be worth the admission. But I want a slice of the entrance
price--and maybe a separate tent, see? My name is Hogarth"--he winked at
Charlotte--"and you'll never be sorry you took me on."
The manager, panting and astonished, was returned to the floor. His
anger struggled with his pleasure at Hugo's showmanship. "Well, what
else can you do? Weight-lifting is pretty stale."
Hugo thought quickly. "I can bend a railroad rail--not a spike. I can
lift a full-grown horse with one--one shoulder. I can chin myself on my
little finger. I can set a bear trap with my teeth--"
"That's a good number."
"I can push up just twice as much weight as any one else in the game and
you can print a challenge on my tent. I can pull a boa constrictor
straight--"
"We'll give you a chance. Come around here at three this afternoon with
your stuff and we'll try your act. Does this lady work in it? That'll
help."
"Yes," Charlotte said.