"'What did you mean taking God's name in vain?' says Jerry sternly.
"'I'll show you, you—'
"He came in with a rush, grimy fists flying. Jerry feinted just once, side-stepped and caught him prettily on the point of the jaw. The blow was beautifully timed, and the fellow dropped like a log."
"And then?"
"A crowd was gathering and so we ducked—I slipped Jerry into a hotel entrance near by and out we went by another way." Ballard paused in the act of lighting a cigarette. "You see, he's already giving battle to society. A walk abroad with Jerry is an adventure which may end in metaphysics or the jail. But it won't do, Roger, tilting at wind-mills like that. He can't make New York like Horsham Manor—at least not all at once."
"He'd try that if he could," I laughed.
"It will be a slow business, I'm afraid. New York is quite contented to be exactly what she is. And the women!" He emitted a tenuous whistle. And then, "I don't suppose it ever occurred to you, Pope, that all these years you've been sheltering the Apollo Belvedere."
"He is good looking. Thank God he doesn't know it."
"He will in time. It's really a shame the way the women stare at him on the street. He's never through blushing when he isn't asking questions.
"'What do those women look at me for?' he asks. 'Nothing queer about me, is there?'