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her home and called up Phyllis to ask, “Be sure to have Bennett, when he gets home, take my bag out of the taxicab for me.” So Phyllis was waiting for me at the door.

Things were a bit strained. Of course, there was nothing wrong about this, but Phyllis was a little peeved at me, especially because she was losing her mind trying to entertain Walter Van Tillburg Clarke. That night we went to the theater--the three of us. Everything was in rather a state of strain. Phyllis was angry at me. We were both trying to talk to Clarke.

We got home. She had thawed a little bit by this time. She knew that she had punished me enough. I had sent her flowers after all. I said that I was hungry. Phyllis said, “Shall I make you some scrambled eggs and toast and coffee?” She makes wonderful scrambled eggs. I said, “That would be great.” Clarke's eyes bulged because we went to our kitchen and Phyllis made eggs and coffee and toast and we sat down at the kitchen table. Walter Clarke said, “Do you mean to say that sophisticated people in New York eat in the kitchen this way?" We said, “Of course they do. New York people are no different from any other people.”

Well, this opened the flood gates. For the next three days, Walter Van Tillburg Clarke never shut up. He felt at home. It was the eggs and coffee and toast in the kitchen. Phyllis said, “Gosh, Walt, do you remember when I couldn't get you to talk? Will you please shut up?" He followed her around the house talking his head off. We've loved him ever since,