The Hat Trick

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In a sense, the thing never happened. Actually, it would not have happened had not a thundershower been at its height when the four of them came out of the movie.

It had been a horror picture. A really horrible one—not trapdoor claptrap, but a subtle, insidious thing that made the rain-laden night air seem clean and sweet and welcome. To three of them. The fourth—

They stood under the marquee, and Mae said, “Gee, gang, what do we do now, swim or take taxis?” Mae was a cute little blonde with a turned-up nose, the better for smelling the perfumes she sold across a department-store counter.

Elsie turned to the two boys and said, “Let’s all go up to my studio for a while. It’s early yet.” The faint emphasis on the word “studio” was the snapper. Elsie had had the studio for only a week, and the novelty of living in a studio instead of a furnished room made her feel proud and Bohemian and a little wicked. She wouldn’t, of course, have invited Walter up alone, but as long as there were two couples of them, it would be all right.

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