52
PARTISAN REVIEW
pointing his pencil at him. "You seem to be a square shooter,
see. I don't want to hound you. I know you're honest alright.
It ain't that. We're all honest.
If
I'm on your neck this way
please remember that my clients are on mine, too. Now what
do you owe 'em? About two hundred bucks, eh? Alright, yuu
pay me a hundred and we'll call it quits."
Mr. Doe shook his head slowly.
"You don't understand," he said weariedly. "I haven't
got the money."
"Alright, I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll make it even easier
for you." Mr. Schmuck was melting under the warmth of his
own magnanimity. "I'll make it seventy-five, see, and tell
my
client that's all that's coming to him."
"Is it a go?" Mr. Schmuck said actually reaching for the
phone. "I'll call him up right now and make him take it if
you'll say the word."
Mr. Doe shrugged his shoulders. "What's the use of
talking?" he said unhappily turning to go. "You don't under·
stand. Nobody can understand."
What was there to understand, when it came to that?
If
you were walking along a straight road, or maybe between the
tracks of a railroad-incalculably sudden and vivid the memory
a.ssailed Mr. Doe of himself as a boy walking the railroad ties,
his shoes slung over his shoulder, the ties. heated by the fierce
sun of August burning his naked feet; he couldn't recall how
he happened to be there, it didn't matter anyway, but the memory
was fraught with a piercing nostalgic sadness that brought the
quick hot tears to his eyes- if you were walking along that way
the tracks seemed to come together in the distance and that was
called perspective. It was an illusion really, only it wasn't an
illusion, the way was getting narrower and narrower all the
time and you felt crushed, slowly remorselessly crushed and
stifled, not just because of this debt or that but everything to·
gether squeezing you tighter and tighter and tighter ...
Mr. Doe breathed with difficulty as he put on his hat and
groped for the doorknob.
"Goodbye," he said his own voice strange to him.
The telephone bell was ringing.
"Hello!" called Mr. Schmuck yanking at the receiver and
staring vaguely into space. "Hello! Hello! Whatsat ... ?'"
