e drift trade. Everyone who comes to Old Orchard in the summer is. The place here is a little different. Most of the guys who
come in here live here year-round. The people out there . . .' He waved at the windowdismissing them with a flick of the wrist. 'Drift trade. Like
youmister.'
Billy poured the Schooner carefully down the side of his glass and then laid a ten-dollar bill on the bar. 'I'm not sure we understand each other. I'm
talking about realactual Gypsiesnot tourists or summer people.'
'Real Ohyou must mean those guys who were camped out by the Salt Shack.'
Billy's heart speeded in his chest. 'Can I show you some pictures?'
'Wouldn't do any good. I didn't see them.' He looked at the ten for a moment and then called: 'Lon,
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One of the old men who had been sitting by the window got up and shuffled over to the bar. He was wearing gray cotton pantsa white shirt that
was too big for himand a snap-brim straw hat. Its face was weary. Only his eyes were alive. He reminded Billy of someoneand after a few
moments it came to him. The old man looked like Lee Strasbergthe teacher and actor.
'This is Lon Enders' the bartender said. 'He's got a little place just on the wyilai:
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