After the show, Bob said, “Shall we drop in somewhere for a drink?”
For some reason Mae shivered slightly. “Well, all right, but not wine. I’m off of wine. Say, have you seen Wally since last week?”
Bob shook his head. “Guess you’re right about wine. Wally can’t take it, either. Made him sick or something and he ran out quick, didn’t he? Hope he made the street in time.”
Mae dimpled at him. “You weren’t so sober yourself, Mr. Evans. Didn’t you try to pick a fight with him over some silly card tricks or something? Gee, that picture we saw was awful; I had a nightmare that night.”
He smiled. “What about?”
“About a—Gee, I don’t remember. Funny how real a dream can be, and still you can’t remember just what it was.”
Bob didn’t see Walter Beekman until one day, three weeks after the party, he dropped into the bookstore. It was a dull hour and Walter, alone in the store, was writing at a desk in the rear. “Hi, Wally. What you doing?”
Walter got up and then nodded toward the papers he’d been working on. “Thesis. This is my last year premed, and I’m majoring in psychology.”
Bob leaned negligently against the desk. “Psychology, huh?” he asked tolerantly. “What you writing about?”
Walter looked at him a while before he answered. “Interesting theme. I’m trying to prove that the human mind is incapable of assimilating the utterly incredible. That, in other words, if you saw something you simply couldn’t possibly believe, you’d talk yourself out of believing you saw it. You’d rationalize it, somehow.”
“You mean if I saw a pink elephant I wouldn’t believe it?”
Walter said, “Yes, that or a—Skip it.” He went up front to wait on another customer.
When Walter came back, Bob said, “Got a good mystery in the rentals? I got the week-end off; maybe I’ll read one.”
Walter ran his eye along the rental shelves and then flipped the cover of a book with his forefinger. “Here’s a dilly of a weird,” he said. “About beings from another world, living here in disguise, pretending they’re people.”
“What for?”
Walter grinned at him. “Read it and find out. It might surprise you.”
Bob moved restlessly and turned to look at the rental books himself. He said, “Aw, I’d rather have a plain mystery story. All that kind of stuff is too much hooey for me.” For some reason he didn’t quite understand, he looked up at Walter and said, “Isn’t it?”
Walter nodded and said, “Yeah, I guess it is.”