“Why he’s quite a little man. Come here sir, let me look at you.”
“Well goodby Mrs. Herf. If you ever come down our way.... Jimmy I didn’t see you kiss the ground young man.”
“Oh he’s killing, he’s so oldfashioned ... such an oldfashioned child.”
The cab smells musty, goes rumbling and lurching up a wide avenue swirling with dust, through brick streets soursmelling full of grimy yelling children, and all the while the trunks creak and thump on top.
“Muddy dear, you dont think it’ll break through do you?”
“No dear,” she laughs tilting her head to one side. She has pink cheeks and her eyes sparkle under the brown veil.
“Oh muddy.” He stands up and kisses her on the chin. “What lots of people muddy.”
“That’s on account of the Fourth of July.”
“What’s that man doing?”
“He’s been drinking dear I’m afraid.”