by a long shot.

With a wink, the hackie swooshes away in the night and Frankie's left alone with Vera's fingers feeling like live electric wires on his arm and her saying soft at him, "A night to remember, Frankie."

"Yeah." Frankie's feet take him up to Vera's door. It's kind of shadowy there and perfumy.

Vera stands looking at him with a little smile. "Hello, Frankie."

"Hello?" Then somebody seems to give Frankie a darn good push.

Well, Vera's kissing him like at the Rivoli. Only it ain't like at the Rivoli. It's like a hot-foot starting at Frankie's toes and gaining speed as it goes up. Arriving at his poor brain, it just knocks the top of his head out.

"Well, Frankie," the old man's voice says, "how was that?"

Frankie opens his eyes. Yeah, he's back on the moon, no fancy dress suit, just old slacks and jacket again.

Frankie considers the old man's question. "Oh, I guess Vera's okay—for some guys."

"She's supposed to represent every American girl, Frankie."

"American dames." Frankie thinks of a certain one employed by him. "Huh."

"Hmmmm." The old man rocks a bit and squints over the earth. Part of Europe's coming around now. The old man nods in the direction of the Mediterranean. "There on the Riviera."

"So what?"

"So on the beach near Cannes. Mimi in the polka-dot suit."

"Well, now—" Just like that, he's parked there on the sand with the sun warm on his pale back.

Well Mimi has dark hair fluffing about tan shoulders on one end and little red-nailed toes on the other end, and all the scenery in between's the kind that's been in favor since Eve fixed Adam. Yeah, Vera Verina made Frankie's bashful heart turn somersaults, but Mimi is making it stand on its head and spin around on one ear.

Then Mimi jumps up and in a tickling voice says something which, with a roll of big blue eyes, ends in, "Frankee!"

It sure sounds 

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