"The Sexual Morality Act isn't a blue law, Garvey," the inspector continued, in a voice like steel against flint. "Violations can have a catastrophic effect upon the individual, to say nothing of the race. That's why we're going to make an example of you, Garvey. Now let's see the evidence."
"I don't know what in hell you're talking about," Garvey said. Surreptitiously his hand began to creep toward the revolver.
"Wake up, boy!" said the inspector. "You mean you still don't recognize me?"
Garvey stared at the inspector's tanned, humorous face. He said, "Eddie Starbuck?"
"About time! How long's it been, Ralph? Ten years?"
"At least ten," Garvey said. His knees were beginning to shake from sheer relief. "Sit down, sit down, Eddie! You still drink bourbon?"
"I'll say." Starbuck sat down on one of Garvey's acceleration couches. He looked around, and nodded.
"Nice. Very nice. You must be rich indeed, old buddy."
"I get by," Garvey said. He handed Starbuck a drink, and poured one for himself. They talked for a while about old times at Michigan State.
"And now you're a Customs inspector," Garvey said.