Page 138 - tender-is-the-night

up in one of Tad’s more savage cartoons—in boyhood Dick
had often thrown an uneasy glance at the dim borderland of
crime on which he stood.
‘How do you like Paris, Buddy?’
Not waiting for an answer the man tried to fit in his
footsteps with Dick’s: ‘Where you from?’ he asked encour-
agingly.
‘From Buffalo.’
‘I’m from San Antone—but I been over here since the
war.’
‘You in the army?’
‘I’LL say I was. Eighty-fourth Division—ever heard of
that outfit?’
The man walked a little ahead of him and fixed him with
eyes that were practically menacing.
‘Staying in Paris awhile, Buddy? Or just passing
through.’
‘Passing through.’
‘What hotel you staying at?’
Dick had begun laughing to himself—the party had the
intention of rifling his room that night. His thoughts were
read apparently without self-consciousness.
‘With a build like yours you oughtn’t to be afraid of me,
Buddy. There’s a lot of bums around just laying for Ameri-
can tourists, but you needn’t be afraid of me.’
Becoming bored, Dick stopped walking: ‘I just wonder
why you’ve got so much time to waste.’
‘I’m in business here in Paris.’
‘In what line?’

138 Tender is the Night