The waiting was not satisfied. Perhaps he was not, after all, the only one to feel that way. The plaza, dark in the centre but lighted around the sidewalk, was full of people looking for something. It was a small plaza, insufficient for so many prowling people, walking round and round.
In the shadows of the north side he found Madden, lounging on a bench and more or less waiting for him.
“We’ll have to go to the cafe,” he said, as Blake came up. “Everything else is jammed. I’m not hungry, are you?”
“No. I ate dust all day. Did you smell that jerked meat?”
“Oh, that. You’ll get used to that.”
They crossed the plot of grass and elbowed through the procession on the walk. The cafe was crowded too. Only half disappointed, they loitered at the door, peering in at the restaurant until they drew a hail from Harvey and Gin, who had a booth.
“Come on over,” Harvey said. “Plenty of room.” Gin gathered her skirts and edged to the wall invitingly. Blake glowered at her, representative as she was of the whole jostling day.
“I saw you there,” she told him, “looking very fierce. I’m sorry. You might have pitied me a little, and you didn’t. I know you didn’t: I see it in your eye.” She smiled teasingly and he felt a little mollified.
Harvey moved his knife and fork to make room for Blue Plate Number Three, and said, “What’re you kids doing tonight? We’re looking for excitement. Come along? I’ve got the car.”
Teddy suggested the movies. Blake demurred; he tried to explain that he had wasted far too many of his evenings in the movies, but the others didn’t understand. He couldn’t tell them that the evenings would be rare and strange and historical if they could only manage them properly. Defeated, he followed them to the theatre and watched an ancient railroad cinema.