“I know.”

“So then, when a new restaurant finally moved in, they called it Formerly Joe’s. And now it’s gone, in fact it’s been gone for a long time, and when somebody finally takes it over what are they gonna call it? Formerly Formerly Joe’s?”

“Or Two Guys From Anatruria.”

“I guess anything’s possible. You seeing her tonight, Bern?”

“Yes.”

“And seeing more Bogart movies?”

“Uh-huh.”

“How long’s this festival going on, anyway?”

“Another ten or twelve days.”

“You’re kidding.” She looked at me. “You’re not kidding. How many movies did the guy make, anyway?”

“Seventy-five, but they didn’t manage to get them all.”

“What a shame. How long are you gonna stay with it, Bern?”

“I don’t know,” I said. “I’m kind of enjoying it. The first week there were times when I was wondering what I was doing there, but then it became this magical other world that I would slip into for a few hours every night.” I shrugged. “After all,” I said, “it is Bogart. He’s always interesting to watch even in some dog of a movie you never heard of. And when it’s a picture I’ve seen a dozen times, well, who can get tired of Casablanca or The Maltese Falcon? They get better every time you see them.”

“What’s the program for tonight?”

“The Caine Mutiny,” I said, “and Swing Your Lady.”

“I remember The Caine Mutiny. He was great in that, playing with those marbles.”

“Ball bearings, I think they were.”

“I’ll take your word for it. What’s the other one? Swing Your Partner?”

“Swing Your Lady.”

“I never heard of it.”

“Nobody did. Bogart’s a wrestling promoter in the Ozarks.”