ment while they were passing through Oakland.
Then he listlessly ate a banana while he waited.

The hoarse siren of a ferryboat bellowed through
the murk. Bud started the engine, throttled it down
to his liking, and left it to warm up for the flight.
He ate another banana, thinking lazily that he wished
he owned this car. For the first time in many a day
his mind was not filled and boiling over with his
trouble. Marie and all the bitterness she had come
to mean to him receded into the misty background
of his mind and hovered there, an indistinct mem-
ory of something painful in his life.

A street car slipped past, bobbing down the track
like a duck sailing over ripples. A local train
clanged down to the depot and stood jangling its
bell while it disgorged passengers for the last boat
to the City whose wall of stars was hidden behind
the drizzle and the clinging fog. People came
straggling down the sidewalk -- not many, for few
had business with the front end of the waiting trains.
Bud pushed the throttle up a little. His fingers
dropped down to the gear lever, his foot snuggled
against the clutch pedal.

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