I was leaning against the bar in a speakeasy on Fifty-second Street, waiting for Nora to finish her Christmas shopping, when a girl got up from the table where she had been sitting with three other people and came over to me. She was small and blonde, and whether you looked at her face or at her body in powder-blue clothes, the result was satisfactory. "Aren't you Nick Charles? she asked.
- From The Thin Man by Dashiell Hammett