"I thought you came to borrow a gun."
"Were they written to you?"
"To me?" Stacy shook his head slightly. "I've got enemies. A man's enemies. We know each other. We don't have to be anonymous." Stacy spread his shoulders. "I'll pack a gun to the theater Sunday. I'll back your play, Jake. I can break a nose."
"I think they're to you, Oliver."
"What difference does it make? I'm making it my fight."
"I don't want a fight. We've got enough trouble as it is. I want to avoid a fight."
"You never can, Jake. As soon as you realize that you'll grow up." Stacy smiled lazily. "You go around the world and you learn one thing. It's all a fight, and the only way to keep from losing is to win."
"Oliver, if you're so hot for breaking noses, will you for God's sake find him and break it before Sunday."
"No trouble at all, Jake. Tell me where he is."
"I don't know. You do."