"_Coelum non animum mutat_, which, in good American, means that it is
the same old city on the level, and only changes its sky-line," he
chortled. "Bet you a five-spot to a nickel I'll walk blindfolded along
Twenty-third Street from the Hoboken Ferry any time of the day, and
take the correct turn into Broadway, bar being run over by a taxi or
street-car at the crossings."
"I'll take the same odds and do that myself. How could any normal
human being miss the rattle of the Sixth Avenue Elevated?"
Devar's forehead wrinkled with surprise.
"Hello, there! Hold on! How often have you told me that you had never
seen New York since you were a baby?" he cried.
"Nor have I. Ten years ago, almost to a day, I sailed from Boston to
Europe with my people, and I had never revisited New York after leaving
it in infancy, though both my father and mother hailed from the Bronx."
"There's a cog missing somewhere, or my mental gear-box is out of
shape."
"Not a bit of it. One may learn heaps of things from maps and books."
"Start right in, then, and take an honors course, for behold in me a
map and a book and a high-grade society index for the whole blessed
little island of Manhattan."
"Thank you. What is that slender, column-like structure to the left of
the Singer Building?"
Devar gazed hard at the graceful tower indicated by his friend; then he
laughed.
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