“Well all I’m going to ask you to do is to send away this lobster. I dont think it’s terribly good.”
“The devil ... maybe it isn’t.... Here waiter!... I was so rattled I didn’t know I was eating it.”
“You can get me some supreme of chicken instead.”
“Surely you poor child you must be starved.”
“... And a little corn on the cob.... I understand now why you make such a good lawyer, George. Any jury would have burst out sobbing long ago at such an impassioned plea.
“How about you Elaine?”
“George please dont ask me.”
At the table where Jimmy Herf sat they were drinking whiskey and soda. A yellowskinned man with light hair and a thin nose standing out crooked between childish blue eyes was talking in a confidential singsong: “Honest I had em lashed to the mast. The police department is cookoo,
absolutely cookoo treating it as a rape and suicide case. That old man and his lovely innocent daughter were murdered, foully murdered. And do you know who by...?” He pointed a chubby cigarettestained finger at Tony Hunter.