a protest the coup� came to a stop and Daisy signalled us to draw up alongside.

“Where are we going?” she cried.

“How about the movies?”

“It's so hot,” she complained. “You go. We'll ride around and meet you after.” With an effort her wit rose faintly, “We'll meet you on some corner. I'll be the man smoking two cigarettes.”

“We can't argue about it here,” Tom said impatiently as a truck gave out a cursing whistle behind us. “You follow me to the south side of Central Park, in front of the Plaza.”

Several times he turned his head and looked back for their car, and if the traffic delayed them he slowed up