'I'm a Friend of Tom's,' He Said.

Tom drove slowly until we were beyond the bend. Then his foot came down hard, and the coop raced through the night. The buchanan's house floated suddenly toward us through the dark, rustling trees. Tom stopped beside the porch and looked up at the second floor where two windows bloomed with light among the vines. He said, hen we got out of the car, he glanced at me and frowned slightly: I ought to have dropped you in west egg, nick. There's nothing we can do to night. As we walked across the moonlit gravel to the porch, he disposed of the situation in a few brisk phrases. "I'll telephone for a taxi to take