II + 

Paul is in his room of two windows. + 

Outside, the South-Side L track cuts them in two. + 

Bona is one window. One window, Paul. + 

Hurtling Loop-jammed L trains throw them in swift shadow. + 

Paul goes to his. Gray slanting roofs of houses are tinted lavender in the setting sun. Paul follows the sun, over the stockyards where a fresh stench is just arising, across wheat lands that are still waving above their stubble, into the sun. Paul follows the sun to a pine-matted hillock in Georgia. He sees the slanting roofs of gray unpainted cabins tinted lavender. A Negress chants a lullaby beneath the mate-eyes of a southern planter. Her breasts are ample for the suckling of a song. She weans it, and sends it, curiously weaving, among lush melodies of cane and corn. Paul follows the sun into himself in Chicago. + 

He is at Bona’s window. + 

With his own glow he looks through a dark pane. + 

Paul’s roommate comes in. + 

“Say, Paul, I’ve got a date for you. Come on. Shake a leg, will you?” + 

His blonde hair is combed slick. His vest is snug about him. + 

He is like the electric light which he snaps on. + 

“Whatdoysay, Paul? Get a wiggle on. Come on. We havent got much time by the time we eat and dress and everything.” + 

His bustling concentrates on the brushing of his hair. + 

Art: What in hell’s getting into Paul of late, anyway? Christ, but he’s getting moony. Its his blood. Dark blood: moony. Doesnt get anywhere unless you boost it. You’ve got to keep it going⁠— + 

“Say, Paul!” + 

—or it’ll go to sleep on you. Dark blood; nigger? Thats what those jealous she-hens say. Not Bona though, or she⁠ ⁠… from the South⁠ ⁠… wouldnt want me to fix a date for him and her. Hell of a thing, that Paul’s dark: you’ve got to always be answering questions. + 

“Say, Paul, for Christ’s sake leave that window, cant you?” + 

“Whats it, Art?” + 

“Hell, I’ve told you about fifty times. Got a date for you. Come on.” + 

“With who?” + 

Art: He didnt use to ask; now he does. Getting up in the air. Getting funny. + 

“Heres your hat. Want a smoke? Paul! Here. I’ve got a match. Now come on and I’ll tell you all about it on the way to supper.” + 

Paul: He’s going to Life this time. No doubt of that. Quit your kidding. Some day, dear Art, I’m going to kick the living slats out of you, and you wont know what I’ve done it for. And your slats will bring forth Life⁠ ⁠… beautiful woman⁠ ⁠… + 

Pure Food Restaurant. + 

“Bring me some soup with a lot of crackers, understand? And then a roast-beef dinner. Same for you, eh, Paul? Now as I was saying, you’ve got a swell chance with her. And she’s game. Best proof: she dont give a damn what the dorm girls say about you and her in the gym, or about the funny looks that Boynton gives her, or about what they say about, well, hell, you know, Paul. And say, Paul, she’s a sweetheart. Tall, not puffy and pretty, more serious and deep⁠—the kind you like these days. And they say she’s got a car. And say, she’s on fire. But you know all about that. She got Helen to fix it up with me. The four of us⁠—remember the last party? Crimson Gardens! Boy!” + 

Paul’s eyes take on a light that Art can settle in. + 