Coming out of the building O’Keefe had to make his way through people crowding into the portal. A slate sky sagging between the tall buildings was spatting the pavements with fiftycent pieces. Men were running to cover with their straw hats under their coats. Two girls had made hoods of newspaper over their summer bonnets. He snatched blue of their eyes, a glint of lips and teeth as he passed. He walked fast to the corner and caught an uptown car on the run. The rain advanced down the street in a solid sheet glimmering, swishing, beating newspapers flat, prancing in silver nipples along the asphalt, striping windows, putting shine on the paint of streetcars and taxicabs. Above Fourteenth there was no rain, the air was sultry.
“A funny thing weather,” said an old man next to him. O’Keefe grunted. “When I was a boy onct I saw it rain on one side of the street an a house was struck by lightnin an on our side not a drop fell though the old man wanted it bad for some tomatoplants he’d just set out.”
Crossing Twentythird O’Keefe caught sight of the tower of Madison Square Garden. He jumped off the car; the momentum carried him in little running steps to the curb. Turning his coatcollar down again he started across the
square. On the end of a bench under a tree drowsed Joe Harland. O’Keefe plunked down in the seat beside him.
“Hello Joe. Have a cigar.”
“Hello Joe. I’m glad to see you my boy. Thanks. It’s many a day since I’ve smoked one of these things.... What are you up to? Aint this kind of out of your beat?”
“I felt kinder blue so I thought I’d buy me a ticket to the fight Saturday.”
“What’s the matter?”
“Hell I dunno.... Things dont seem to go right. Here I’ve got myself all in deep in this political game and there dont seem to be no future in it. God I wish I was educated like you.”
“A lot of good it’s done me.”