The man of the carnation was far in the background.
"Well ?" "That flower.

You can't get away with little tricks like that.

You better be starting on.

Move along." Harrigan glanced slowly from face to face.

The three policemen drew closer together as if for mutual protection.
"Please--honey!" urged the whisper of the girl.
The hand of Harrigan resting on the window sill had gathered to a hard-bunched fist, white at the knuckles, but he nodded across the open space between the cottages.
"If you're looking for work," he said, "seems as though you'd find a handful over there." A clatter of sharp, quick voices rose from a group of Negro soldiers gathering around a white man.