"I," Ephraim sighed, "was robbed."
The girl sat up, clucking sympathetically. "Imagine. Right in Central Park. Like I was saying to Sadie just the other night, there ought to be a law. A mugger cleaned you, huh?"
A bit puzzled by her reference to a crocodilus palustris, but emboldened by her friendliness, Ephraim came out of the cave and sat on the paper beside her. Her patois was strange but not unpleasant. Swartz was a German name. The blond girl was probably the offspring of some Hessian. Even so she was a pretty little doxy and he hadn't bussed a wench for some time. He slipped an experimental arm around her waist. "Haven't we met before?"
Gertie removed his arm and slapped him without heat. "No. And no hard feelings, understand. Ya can't blame a guy for trying." She saw the puckered white scars on his chest, souvenirs of King's Mountain. "Ya was in the Army, huh?"
"Five years."
She was amazed and pleased. "Now ain't that a coincidence? Ya probably know my brother Benny. He was in five years, too." Gertie was concerned. "You were drinking last night, huh?"
"To my shame."
Gertie made the soft clucking sound again. "How ya going to get home in that outfit?"
"That," Ephraim said, "is the problem."