"Oh, you did, did you? 'The best laid plans'—. Didn't you know that I haven't had eyes or ears for another woman since that first night you insulted me—"
"'Doctor Jumpy!'" said I, in delighted recollection.
"If it weren't that I have to drive the car—" said Bill.
"Perhaps, later, you could stop—" I suggested.
He stopped in the midst of the still considerable traffic. And then we sped on again, leaving a breathless, open-mouthed policeman struck into stone, behind us.
"Boston," said I to Bill, after we had been there for two hours, "is the darnedest place!"
"What's the matter with it? Cradle of American culture and everythin'."
"Reminds me of Havana," I said.
"Havana! You're insane!" Bill laid his fork down and gazed at me in amazement over the table in the Copley Plaza.
"Because it's so different," I said, "but the streets aren't much wider, so there. And after all, I think I could fall in love with the Common, and even Back Bay. There's something very solid about it all."