But a chap with a job like mine," Bruce continued pleadingly, as he drove his car rushing around a curve, "needs a little dissipation, too.

I can't tell you what it means to me, when I'm kept late at the office, to have this car for the run up home.
Lower Broadway's empty then, and I know the cops.

I swing around through Washington Square, and the Avenue looks clear for miles, nothing but two long rows of lights to the big hump at Murray Hill.

It's the time between crowds--say about ten.

And I know the cops." "That's all right," said Roger.