At the Oceana Apartments, he recalls a sense of optimism.
He and Babe toured in a revue—twelve towns, ecstatic crowds. They opened in Omaha and were briefly presented with the key of the city before being asked to return it, because the Omaha city fathers discovered they possessed only one key, and Wendell Willkie, running for the presidency, was expecting to receive it. But the revue brought in money, and bought them time to rest. He raised the walls still higher around his property, and Babe built a new home on Magnolia Boulevard.
And he, once again, had Ruth in his life.
I could never bear to be alone, he thinks. It was a blessing when it came to Babe, but a curse with women.
An exchange returns to him, from The Flying Deuces: he and Babe by the banks of the Seine, Babe excoriating him for his failings as a friend. He believes that he may have written the words, or adapted them from what was presented by the writers, but he cannot always tell. The mind plays tricks. He could go to his notes, but he is tired, and he does not trust his legs to support him. What is important is that Babe speaks the words, and now, in the quiet of the Oceana Apartments, silently he mouths them in turn:
Do you realize that after I’m gone you’ll just go on living by yourself?
He does not live by himself. He has Ida.
But still he is alone.