So he went down the street, crossed the cobbled plaza along the water-front, and slipped through the darkness among the trucks out to the end of the pier.

Under his feet the East River splashed sluggishly against the piles, but out near the river's center he could see the tide swirling out to sea at six miles an hour, toward the great shadowy Manhattan Bridge crested with its splendid tiara of lights.
He stretched himself and breathed deeply of the warm free spring.

It tasted good after two long years of the prison's sealed air.

He would have liked to shed his clothing and dive down for a brisk fight with the tingling water.

Larry had always taken pleasure in keeping his body fit.
He had not cared for the gymnasiums of the ward clubs where he would have been welcome; in them there had been too much rough horseplay and foulness of mouth, and such had always been offensive to him.