"If I was a free man, Marj, I'd—"
"Where has the strait and narrow got me to, I'd like to know? Sometimes
I think it's nothing but a blind alley pushing me back."
"If I was a free man, Marj—"
"Let me meet a slick little up-stage fellow that doesn't have to look two ways before he walks the wrong beat in daylight; let me meet a fellow like that, and where does it get me?"
"I'm no saint, Marj, but there ain't a beat in town I'd have to look two ways on. Ask any cop—"
"Does the slick little up-stage fellow get my number? He does not. I'd like to see one of them ask that dirty little yellow-head over in the Fancy Fruits to go home with him. A little Nobody-Home like her, just because she was raised in an amen corner of the Bronx and has a six-foot master-mechanic brother to call for her every time she works fifteen minutes later, she can wear her hands crossed on her chest and a lily stuck in 'em and get away with it, too."
"You're right, kiddo; you got more sand than ten of such put together."
"I'm as good as her and better. I'm not so sure by a long shot that any of those baby faces would say no if they was ever invited to say yes. Watch out there, that cab, Blink. Gee! your nerves are as steady as gelatin."
They were veering through the crowds and out into the soft flurry of the storm. Flakes like pulled-out bits of cotton floated to their shoulders, resting there. Seventh Avenue, for the instant before the eye left the great Greek façade of the Pennsylvania Terminal, was like a dream of Athens seen through the dapple of white shadows. Immediately the eye veered, however, the great cosmopolis formed by street meeting avenue tore down the illusion. Another block and second-hand clothing shops nudged one another, their flapping wares for sale outside them like clothes-wash on a line, empty arms and legs gallivanting in the wind. A storm-car combed through the driven snow, scuttling it and clearing the tracks. Down another block the hot, spicy smell of a Mexican dish floated out between the swinging doors of an all-night bar. A man lurched out, laughing and crying.
Marjorie Clark's companion steered her past and turned toward her, his twitching features suddenly, and even through their looseness, softened.