They drifted over to a table and arranging themselves around it waited for the waiter to bring ginger ale. Jim, faintly ill at ease, turned his eyes on Nancy, who had drifted into a nickel crap game with the two boys at the next table.
“Bring them over here,” suggested Clark.
Joe looked around.
“We don’t want to draw a crowd. It’s against club rules.”
“Nobody’s around,” insisted Clark, “except Mr. Taylor. He’s walking up and down like a wild-man trying find out who let all the gasolene out of his car.”
There was a general laugh.
“I bet a million Nancy got something on her shoe again. You can’t park when she’s around.”
“O Nancy, Mr. Taylor’s looking for you!”
Nancy’s cheeks were glowing with excitement over the game. “I haven’t seen his silly little flivver in two weeks.”
Jim felt a sudden silence. He turned and saw an individual of uncertain age standing in the doorway.