The first paragraph:
The white
Cadillac rolled up the curving pebbled driveway, passed the brightly lighted
clubhouse, and went around to the parking lot in the rear of the country club.
The car’s windows were up and its airconditioning purred quietly against the
humidity of the south Florida night. Low clouds drifted across the face of a
quarter moon, and a few drops of rain fell on the windshield. The Cadillac came
to a stop with its headlights beamed out over a practice putting green; the
driver leaned forward, cut the lights, then turned to his companion. “You sure
you know what to say afterward?” he asked urgently.
