It made Bud sore now to think of Joe standing so smug and so well dressed and so immaculate beside the bar, smiling and twisting the ends of his little brown mustache while he watched Bud make such a consummate fool of himself.

At the time, though, Bud had taken a perverse delight in making himself appear more soddenly drunken, more boisterous and reckless than he really was.
Oh, well, what was the odds?
Marie couldn't think any worse of him than she already thought.

And whatever she thought, their trails had parted, and they would never cross again--not if Bud could help it.

Probably Marie would say amen to that.

He would like to know how she was getting along--and the baby, too.