"Say, Joan, lis'en—"
"Move on," the girl interrupted: "you're blocking the traffic."
"Nah—serious': howja like to go to a show tonight?"
She turned incredulous eyes to him. "What show?" she drawled.
"I gotta pass for Ziegfield's Follies—N'Yawk Roof. Wanta go?"
"Quit your kidding," she replied after a brief pause devoted to analysis of his sincerity. "Y' know you've got to work."
"Nothin' like that!" he insisted. "The Hip closed last Sat'dy and I got a coupla weeks lay-off while they're gettin' ready to rehearse the new show. On the level, now: will you go with me?"
"Will I!" The girl drew a long, ecstatic breath. Then her face darkened as she glanced again at the street: "But we'll get all wet!"
"No, we won't: I'll get an umbrella. Besides, it's lettin' up."
With this Austin vanished, to return in a few minutes with a fairly presentable umbrella. The shower was, in fact, fast passing on over Long Island, leaving in its wake a slackening drizzle amid deep-throated growls at constantly lengthening intervals.