Nor did he pause to study Scattergood. One
might have said that he lit in mid-career, at the top of his speed, and
was out of the door before Scattergood could extend a pudgy hand to
snatch at him. Scattergood grinned.
"Figgered he'd be a mite skittish," he said to the girl behind the cigar
counter.
"I _thought_ something sneaking was going on," said the young woman, as
if to herself.
Scattergood gave her his attention. She had red hair, and his respect
for red hair was a notable characteristic. There was a freckle or two on
her nose, her eyes were steady, and her mouth was firm--but she was
pretty. Scattergood continued to regard her in silence, and she, not
disconcerted, studied him.
"You and me is goin' to eat dinner together this noon," he said,
presently.
"Business or pleasure?" Her rejoinder was tart.
"Why?"
"If it's business, we eat. If it's pleasure, you've stopped at the wrong
cigar counter."
"I knowed I was goin' to take to you," said Scattergood. "You got
capable hair.... This here was to be business."
"Twelve o'clock sharp, then," she said.
He looked at the clock. It lacked half an hour of noon.
Pages:
290
291
292
293
294
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314