“Hic jacet education and religion. Look at that slim white lady called the Plaza.”
“You ought to name her ‘Miss New York.’”
“Good, Jarvis. In time you will learn to play with me.”
He frowned slightly.
“I know,” she added, “I am scheduled under Interruptions in that famous notebook. Unless you play with me occasionally I shall become actively interruptive.”
“You are as clever as a squirrel,” he said. “Always hiding things and finding them.”
“Hic jacet Bambi, along with the other self-important, modern institutions,” she sighed humbly.
They rattled across the Circle and up Broadway. Bambi was silent, bored with its stupidity. It was not until they turned on to Riverside Drive that her enthusiasm bubbled up again.
“Don’t you love rivers?” she exclaimed, as the Hudson sparkled at them in the sun.
“I’ve never known any,” he replied.
“Oh, Mr. Hudson, Mr. Jocelyn,” she said, instantly. “I thought, of course, you had met.”
“You absurdity!” laughed Jarvis. “What is it that you love about rivers?”
