Great American writing.
“Good crowd," Lancey said.
"Yeah," the Kid said.
"Nice groceries, too."
"And good booze. My brandy must be Napoleon."
"Uh-huh."
"Yeah."
"Nice looking broads."
"That's a fact," The Kid said.
"Ain't that Shooter something? Love to see him skin a deck."
"It's downright sexy," The Kid said.
"He loves 'em."
"Like stroking a beautiful tit," The Kid said.
"That's it - that's it," Lancey said, nodding.
"Yeah."
"You seen him yet?"
"No. You?"
"No."
"I dint hear he wasn't coming," The Kid said.
"He'll come, Kid," Lancey said, almost, but not quite, warmly and reassuringly.
"I sure hope so," The Kid said. "I like Nig."
"Well, I do too."
"I heard talk."
"Long time now."
"It ain't hard to like Nig."
"Not at all."
"Him sitting down yonder in Memphis and he knows it all."
"Everything."
"They oughta take him into the intelligence."
"They ought."
"Pig shouldn'ta done that."
"No," Lancey said. "He was wrong. Dead wrong."
"I ain't apologizing."
"I know it - I know it."
"It's just - "
"Kid, I know all about it," Lancey said.
"Yeah, you been around."
"Long time."