"Did you see there were four more failures on Wall Street?"
"Tell me Chicago wheat pit's gone crazy."
"They ought to close all the exchanges till this blows over."
"Well maybe when the Germans have licked the pants off her England'll give Ireland her freedom."
"But they are. . . . Stock market wont be open tomorrow."
"If a man's got the capital to cover and could keep his head this here would be the time to clean up."
"Well Bullock old man I'm going home," said Jimmy. "This is my night of rest and I ought to be getting after it."
Bullock winked one eye and waved a drunken hand. The voices in Jimmy's ears were throbbing elastic roar, near, far, near, far. Dies like a dog, march on he said. He'd spent all his money but a quarter. Shot at sunrise. Declaration of war. Commencement of hostilities. And they left him alone in his glory. Leipzig, the Wilderness, Waterloo, where the embattled farmers stood and fired the shot heard round . . . Cant take a taxi, want to walk anyway. Ultimatum. Trooptrains singing to the shambles with flowers on their ears. And shame on the false Etruscan who lingers in his home when . . .
As he was walking down the gravel drive to the road an arm hooked in his.
"Do you mind if I come along? I dont want to stay here."
"Sure come ahead Tony I'm going to walk."
Herf walked with a long stride, looking straight ahead of him. Clouds had darkened the sky where remained the faintest milkiness of moonlight. To the right and left there was outside of the violetgray cones of occasional arclights black pricked by few lights, ahead the glare of streets rose in blurred cliffs yellow and ruddy.
"You dont like me do you?" said Tony Hunter breathlessly after a few minutes.
Herf slowed his pace. "Why I dont know you very well. You seem to me a very pleasant person. . . ."
