"I'll go pick up a fifth and—I got an idea. If we stay here, someone'll be sure to join us and a fifth won't go far. I know a better place. Know Maxine Wells?"

"Met her once at your place, that's all. Dancer, isn't she?"

"Chorus gal for money. Writer for love. She's out of town for a week and lent me a key to her pad, account she's got a marvelous record collection and said I could go up to hear some of them while she's away. When I've been up there with her we never get around to listening much."

"Sounds good. Classical or jazz?"

"Some of both but what I had in mind are plays and poems. She's got Don Juan in Hell, John Brown's Body, the Lady's Not for Burning, reading by Olivier, Dylan Thomas, Rathbone—you name it, she's got it."

"Crazy," I said and meant it. Just the stuff an actor needs to listen to and that he enjoys listening to even if some of it makes him green with envy. And stuff he can't listen to often unless he's solvent enought to have his own phono and collection.

...

I put my purchases in the refrigerator in the kitchenette. I told Charlie that he was elected to make the first round of drinks because I wanted to look over the record titles and he'd already seen them.

I picked half a dozen records out of a magnificent selection and when he came in with the drinks we listened to them, talking only between records and occassionally replenishing our drinks.