“Smack him?” asks Cliff.
“Why ask her?” says Fred. “Can’t you think for yourself?”
“Go on. I can handle this,” says Marie to Cliff. “Wait for me downstairs.”
“Okay,” says Cliff. He puts on his suit jacket, sporting a “Ruptured duck” honorable discharge lapel pin. Fred notices the pin.
“Another ex-serviceman, huh?” says Fred. “Greetings, brother. Have you had any trouble getting readjusted?”
“Not in particular,” says Cliff. “It’s easy if you just take everything in your stride.”
“That’s what I’ve heard,” says Fred.
“Be seeing you,” says Cliff, walking out the door.
“I doubt it,” says Fred, as the door closes. He turns to Marie. “When did you pick him up?”
“He’s an old friend,” says Marie, primping at her vanity table. “He just dropped in for a friendly drink.”
“Did you know him while I was away?” asks Fred.
“I knew lots of people,” says Marie. “What do you think I did all those years?”
“I don’t know, babe,” says Fred. “but I can guess.”
“Go ahead, guess,” says Marie, angrily. “I could do some guessing myself. What were you up to in London, and Paris and all those places?”