Michael Malone - Weebly

not to analyze the fact that Jonathan's hand was shaking
so that he seemed unable to get the key into the lock.
"Oh, no, thanks. There! Come on in. Walking is
about the only exercise I get." This disclaimer was not
precisely true, for Fields had a half-hour program of
calisthenics that he did just before going to bed, both
for his physique and as an anticoncupiscence measure.
"I try to keep a little fit at least, walking."
"My dear man, you must hike around all day!"
Jonathan blushed at this, and at the hyperbolic archness
of Saar's eyebrow as the latter continued, "But why
don't you come use the academy gym? Now, I go in
there at least once a year and tug at a barbell for five
minutes, sometimes more. Your study? Charming!"
There were dinner parties (none in Dingley Falls)
sufficiently open that Walter Saar, when passing around
the aperitif of a gym joke, could offer quips on the
secret life of a shower peeker or confessions of a public
steam bather (the gaiety of gays being often, he knew,
at their own expense—the cost of that "just a talent to
amuse" to which alone Wilde and Coward would lay
claim, their sung-for supper perfectly in tune), but such