The road to City Island leads through Fordham, past the Bronx Zoo, and on out through dark, tree-lined silences. Carl Feldman had suggested a ride, and this one in particular because he was well known in one of the roadhouses along the way and they could get a drink. He sat with May in the back seat. Her hat was off and she lay with her head against Carl's shoulder. She spoke rarely, only breaking her silence to say, "Don't."
Lillian was beside Hubert Scott. He paid little attention to her because he was driving, and Hubert Scott took his driving seriously. When it was necessary for him to get somewhere in a great hurry he would occasionally do thirty miles, but it had to be on the open road.
"Say, Hubert, we're blocking traffic," Carl remarked. "What's the matter?"
"We ain't going to a fire, Carl. What's the use of hurrying? I always figure that it's best to take it easy and live longer."
"What's the use of you living long? The way you drive you won't get many places if you live to be a thousand."
"Don't be razzing me. I'll get you there safe."
Carl said no more. There was no use. Hubert Scott
