"A'right, Warren. Le's travel."
They descended from the spacious veranda to the moon-drenched garden.
The night air was soft and warm and saturated with the odor of lilacs.
From far off came the tinkle of a piano and the sensuous strains of a
violin--and in the street somewhere children were playing and calling
gleefully to one another. Everywhere quietude and beauty and peace.
Side by side the two men walked: Jim's big figure waddling on short,
fat legs; Whitey's broad shoulders thrown far back, his firm, muscular
limbs moving with easy rhythm. And it was the taller man who broke the
silence. He spoke without turning and his voice was frigid and direct.
"What's the big idea, Jim?"
"Hmm! Just visitin' my ol' college chump who I ain't seen since we
graduated from Harvard together."
"Let's cut out the kidding. What are you here for?"