He bit off a chew of tobacco, hunched down lower in the seat, and prepared himself for a real conflab with the man who spoke the language of his tribe.
He forgot that he had just bought tickets to that evening's performance at the Orpheum, as a sort of farewell offering to his domestic goddess before once more going into voluntary exile as advised by the judge.
Pasadena Avenue heard conversational fragments such as, "Say! Do you know--?
Was you in Lund when-- ?" Casey's new friend drove as fast as the law permitted.

He talked of many places and men familiar to Casey, who was in a mood that hungered for those places and men in a spiritual revulsion against the city and all its ways.
Pasadena, Lamanda Park, Monrovia--it was not until the car slowed for the Glendora speed-limit sign that Casey lifted himself off his shoulder blades, and awoke to the fact that he was some distance from home and that the shadows were growing rather long.
"Say! I better get out here and 'phone to the missus," he exclaimed suddenly.

"Pull up at a drug store or some place, will yuh?
I got to talkin' an' forgot I was on my way home when I throwed in with yuh." "Aw, you can 'phone any time.

There is street cars running back to town all the time I or you can catch a bus anywhere's along here.

I got pinched once for drivin' through here without a tail-light; and twice I've had blowouts right along here.