"Well what?"
"Are you satisfied he's not an alien?"
"I don't know. How come he's wearing his new suit the same day he
bought it? You always have to wait a week or ten days for alterations."
"Maybe he didn't need any alterations and they cuffed the pants while
he waited. At least he won't be sitting next to you in the theater."
"How did he get tickets to that? Are you sure you couldn't do any
better than the revival of _Where's Charley_?"
"Not on short notice. He probably paid scalper's prices on the expense
account. We'd better start."
We left the bar.
"I guess he won't be," Mae said, backing up the conversation in the way
she has. "But for my nerves' sake there'd better not be another man in
a new suit sitting next to me, even if he has got a good explanation."
"The odds are against it," I said as we stood at the corner of 44th
Street and Broadway and waited at the _Don't Walk_ sign. "Just divide
two hundred into several million."
The _Walk_ sign flashed on. We were in a group of about fifteen
law-abiding pedestrians who started across the street. We had almost
reached the other side when somebody yelled, "Look out!"
A big long convertible with a grinning idiot behind the wheel was not
only failing to yield the right of way to pedestrians but was making an
illegal right turn onto Broadway from the cross street.