Anyhow, we were sitting on the terrace of the Café Select, and Harvey Stone had just crossed the street.
“Come on up to the Lilas,” I said.
“I have a date.”
“What time?”
“Frances is coming here at seven-fifteen.”
“There she is.”
Frances Clyne was coming toward us from across the street. She was a very tall girl who walked with a great deal of movement. She waved and smiled. We watched her cross the street.