And then I knew it wouldn't ever happen. Maybe I would have found something to hedge on, too; who knows? I didn't really know myself, but I knew it had to be then. There's always only one moment; the next moment is something different.

But still we talked about it, talked it up good, in fact; went at it with real fervor, and maybe once or twice before dawn had two-thirds of us convinced. But never three-thirds; there was always one who could think of a new objection, all perfectly valid, all perfectly sane and deadly. Nevertheless when we parted it was with the firm vow that we were going to put together five hundred dollars and then....

The band folded in Cleveland a week later and Cornball was back again. On our hands, this time. It seemed to him then that we should all have taken off for Haiti. But none of us could recapture that spirit anymore. Then one paricularly foul, Fall day, Cornball remembered a girl he'd met while in Toronto with the band. That's where he had to go; he knew she was waiting for him. So Jill gave him a long parting kiss at Grand Central, I shook his hand, and off he went.

He courted the girl a week or so, married her and was immediately taken into her father's business. He manufactured syrup: ... and, of course it had to be... corn syrup. Well, Jill and I laughed and laughed, and while I was still in a puckish mood I sent him a letter and told him to remind the new wife that Jill had had her tongue in his mouth first and was the corn syrup any better? It was just one of those pointlessly vulgar things you say when you've known someone too well. And I might have known better; he fired right back at me a real chastisement: Didn't I know what kind of a girl this was? and all that. Yes, I suppose then I did. And that pretty well ended the matter, I thought.

After that things went up and up and up. Everything went up and up and got better and better. Some time passed before I learned all the details, but things got better almost immediately for Cornball and his quid pro quo. He was selling his father-in-law's syrup and making money; he had a wife, a rambler and, in short order, two kids. He had one kid of each sex, and his arrogance was unbounded. He wrote briefly and to the point before the first one was born. to inform us it was going to be a boy; and before the second, a girl. Right both times. I was thankful I wasn't in Haiti with him; I decided he was unbearable.

Things also improved for me. After two more wives, a couple of schools, four or five jobs and all the usual rigamarole, things were looking up. I was doing a little writing and some of my things were getting published. I began to imagine a name for myself. So we all lived out our days for a few years. And then one day Cornball remembered Josie. He decided he'd been madly in love with her all the time. I had a letter from Josie telling me Cornball was there, courting her.

Josie wanted me to come and take him away, or send him back to his wife and syrup, or do anything with him. I procrastinated for a few weeks and then I didn't have to do anything at all.

Josie, you see, was by then quite happy. True, she was finding her happiness with her own sex, not the other, but I thought, "They're happy? Let 'em be happy." The other girl was considerate and Josie had turned into something

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