"_Goddam it, stop it!_" Even the bartender looked over at me that time.
Now she was really mad, but I didn't want her to go away. I said,
"Gilvey was a fellow who went to Mars with me. Pat Gilvey."
"_Oh._" She sat down again and leaned across the table, low. "_Mars._"
* * * * *
The bartender brought our drinks and looked at me suspiciously. I said,
"Say, Mac, would you turn down the air-conditioning?"
"My name isn't Mac. No."
"Have a heart. It's too cold in here."
"Sorry." He didn't sound sorry.
I was cold. I mean that kind of weather, it's always cold in those
places. You know around New York in August? It hits eighty, eighty-five,
ninety. All the places have air-conditioning and what they really want
is for you to wear a shirt and tie.
But I like to walk a lot. You would, too, you know. And you can't walk
around much in long pants and a suit coat and all that stuff. Not around
there. Not in August. And so then, when I went into a bar, it'd have one
of those built-in freezers for the used-car salesmen with their dates,
or maybe their wives, all dressed up. For what? But I froze.
"_Mars_," the girl breathed. "_Mars._"