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Show •194 could be masks and they could also be exactly what they seem." Jack Lemmon shook his head. The motion upset his sense of balance and he grappled with the bar, spilling his drink. "Oh no. That's too easy. You don't get out of it like that." "All right," the bartender said. "That's enough. Both of you sit down. You want to debate, go to Columbia." "Butt out," I said. "I'm talking to this man about important questions. Get lost." His face seemed to swell up. "If I have to come out from behind this bar I'm going to break your arm just for starters." "Talk," I said. The drunk put a hand on my arm but I shook him off. "If a man could be talked to death New Yorkers could whip anybody." "That's some shiner you've got there," Fancy said. She helped me take off my clothes and balanced me in the hammock. "Didn't the other guy do anything?" "Never tangle with those one-purpose men on their own ground," I said. "Jack Lemmon? He tried to get up and help but he tripped over his bars tool and passed out. Transcen-dentalists can't drink. They don't have a firm enough sense of the world." "Hold still. You'll start your nose bleeding again." "It was a lesson to me. I didn't believe my own |