I was riding along in a car with my father, my mother, and another person. As we rode into New Boston on Route 52 close to the Hill in New Boston, I told the other person that this was the fabled hill which my father owned, about which I had talked so much. Since I planned to show the Hill to the person, we started to pull up to the road in front. Suddenly I saw the trees on the Hill on fire. I shouted to my father and we pulled over. The fire looked quite serious, as if the whole hillside were on fire. Looking up at the top of the Hill, I could see a gigantic flame shooting out of the top, probably where the House on the Hill was. It was probably on fire. Since the fire was so large, and there was little we could do, we watched for a short while, then drove away.
We headed toward downtown Portsmouth and arrived at the Gay Street House. I entered the House, ascended to the rear bedroom on the second floor, lay down and fell asleep. When I awoke, I was only wearing a shirt and a pair of shorts. I thought it was rather late, probably about 10 a.m. I heard some people talking downstairs and stood listening at the top of the stairs until I realized my father's secretary, Pitts, and her sister were down there talking. I thought Pitts' sister's name was Cathy.
I walked into the upstairs living room, where I found my father lying on the floor doing some exercises. He and I talked a few minutes, and I asked him if he wanted me to go look at the Hill in New Boston to see how much damage had been done. He was excited by the idea and wanted me to go, but I told him I was unsure my car would make it up the Hill. He said something about my car having 1,200 horsepower, so it shouldn't have any problem.
I walked to the bottom of the stairs and sat on the stairs. Pitts (who only looked about 30 years old) and her sister were still in the room in front of me and I talked with them. Pitts seemed quite attractive. Her sister was also rather attractive. I said to Pitts, "You look so much younger."
She seemed glad to hear that. I said, "Well I wouldn't say it if it weren't true."
I thought she believed me and I thought I had made her happy. She and her sister continued talking, and her sister talked about a problem she had with alcohol. I said, "Well you know there are many types of drinking problems."
She said that when she would drink, she would tend to become amorous. I told her I understood, that the same thing happened to me when I drank.
I thought about what did actually happen to me when I drank alcohol: I experienced a change, but couldn't precisely define what happened to me.
As I talked, I realized I would like to return to Portsmouth and practice law there. I already knew many people there – Pat's sister for example. If she were ever arrested for driving while intoxicated on alcohol, I could help her out with her problem. And I knew Mr. Brock, the man who owned the service station across the street. I could set up my office in one of the rooms of my father's offices there in the House. Getting started there would be uncomplicated.
I hollered back upstairs to my father and asked if he wanted me to take his car when I left. When he said that would be fine and he threw down the keys, I said, "No. No. I'll just go ahead and take my car."
I walked outside, but instead of going to the Hill in New Boston, I decided to take a walk through downtown Portsmouth. As I walked the three blocks to downtown (I was wearing a white shirt, a red tie and a pair of pin stripped pants), I felt quite good about myself. At last I was somebody, a lawyer, and here I was walking through downtown Portsmouth. I might even want to settle down in Portsmouth. Perhaps I could practice the same kind of law there I had been practicing in Texas – mortgage lending. I could contact the banks in Portsmouth and tell them I was experienced in large mortgage loans and that I knew how to prepare the necessary documents. Perhaps I could get some business that way. Then I could write back to the people in Texas and tell them I now had a bank of my own which I was representing. But I thought, "Does that mean I would just forget about going to Paris and practicing international law?"
I continued walking until I reached the Roy Rogers Esplanade, where a carnival ride had been set up – apparently some festivities were going to soon take place. The ride (which had a slide in front of it) looked like some kind of house which people would go into – perhaps a spook house. Up high on front was carved a large wooden horse.
I walked on down the street in front of Kresgees, still contemplating the possibility of returning to Portsmouth to practice law.
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