Two of the horses that whinnied cordially at his approach were rusty roans.Ha! brown zebra print fabric he laughed.I'm sixty two, thank God! acknowledged the Older Man.But it hasn't! cried the brown zebra print fabric Older Man hotly.For a few minutes then both men resumed their cigars, staring blinkishly out all the while from their dark green piazza corner into the dazzling white tennis courts that gleamed like so many slippery pine planks in the afternoon glare and heat.Where in blazes do the story book writers find their brown zebra print fabric girls? he demanded.To go was just as awkward as not to go! Not to go was just as awkward as to go! Over and over and over one silly alternative chased the other through his addled senses.Mountains? Do you think for a moment that a fellow like me comes to a God forsaken spot like this for the sake of mountains? A trifle noisily the Older Man jerked his chair around and, brown zebra print fabric slouching down into his shabby gray clothes, with his hands thrust deep into his pockets, his feet shoved out before him, sat staring at his companion.Thank you very much.It was the Younger Man who brown zebra print fabric recovered his conversational interest first.