“All right,” said Joe. “We’ll go on up, after we’ve had a drink. We can have dinner sent in from outside.”
Shortly after midnight Joe and Harry issued out of the house on Fifty-Eighth street. Apparently there was nothing to choose between them for mellowness; but Joe was not as mellow as he was making out to be. He linked his arm affectionately within Harry’s.
“You’re a damn good fellow, Harry! I think the world of you! . . . Just the same there’s going to be trouble as a result of this night’s work!”
“You’re foolish!” said Harry, dimpling. “She didn’t care. . . .”
“I know her!” said Joe significantly. “She wasn’t going to let anything on to you, of course. And me being there, too. . . .”
“Well,” said Harry expansively, “even so! Need the heavens fall? . . . Oh my God! what a skin! Like old white velvet. . . . What the old man don’t know won’t hurt him!”
“Look at the position it puts me in!”
“You don’t need to know, either.”
“Aah . . . !” Joe grew vague. “Well, I can’t help it. . . . ’S too soon to go home, old fellow.”