See you at ten." He and Lucky walked away. Penn looked back
once and smiled. Same old Penn.
The night air was clear and crisp. People on the sidewalks seemed to be
enjoying themselves. Arthur went to his room and fell asleep
immediately, but he did not sleep well. He kept waking and seeing
Penn's smile--amused, helpless, oddly gallant. He had a premonition
that he might not see him again.
In the morning, Arthur waited an hour, but Penn didn't show up. He
walked back to Harrah's and checked out. The desk clerk gave him five
casino silver dollars--"Our way of saying thank you, Sir."
Arthur stopped at a slot machine near the exit and dropped the dollars
in, pulling the long handle and waiting after each one. He looked down
the rows of machines at other gamblers with their arms in the same
position. Sometimes you win; mostly you lose. In the end you lose.
That's what Penn got from the place--that truth, underscored.
Sure, you can quit when you're ahead. But then you're out of the game;
you're not playing. That's what I've done with my life, he thought. But
he would lose too, in the end. Maybe the best strategy was to pass
along the winnings, if you had any, the way he had last night. Penn had
done that in Guayaquil--a good thing, as he'd put it--although he
hadn't finished the job. Probably wouldn't, either, the way his life
was going. Arthur felt for his notebook and Constanza's address.
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