Kane remembered a look of sardonic mockery in Lucille's eyes as her face disappeared and was replaced by several others.
Somehow, Kane couldn't figure out how, five of them were jammed into the back seat of one of the cabs and then they were moving away through the fog.
Someone who said "We're Laura," with a tight tanned body was wriggling on Kane's lap and her arm was around Kane's neck. She had bright teeth and she breathed scentedly into Kane's face.
"Nothing to worry about, Kane boy," he heard Phil say in a muffled joy. "We're the gang."
"'It's always fair weather, the Sunhill Gang is always together,'" Laura was crooning. The red-faced fat man next to Kane laughed and then Kane saw that the red-faced man whose name seemed to be Ben and the woman on his lap whom he called Jenny, were kissing one another. There was something embarrassingly intimate about the way they did it. It was suddenly much more than a mere spontaneous show of affection.
Kane looked away. Beyond a certain point, he felt that love-making was something that should be reserved for privacy.
That sort of thing might be expected to change, of course. Customs changed, and as Kane recalled, one could say the trend had been somewhat in that direction.
There were two drivers up front. That was a change too. Every cab had had two drivers, a man and a woman.
It was all a bit overdone, Kane thought. Still, they were friends of Phil's. A friend of yours is a friend of mine.
But it affected Kane adversely. He felt uneasy. He didn't really know them at all. In fact, he scarcely even knew Phil.