Curiosity prompted me to say, “What made you think I had a motive for getting over it?”
“Looks. You can always tell what a man’s made for by the kind of looker he is. As a looker you’re some swell. Lovikins here, now—”
“If I can’t do as well as the likes o’ you, ye poor little snipe of a bartender for babies—”
“What’ll you bet you can’t?” Pyn asked, good-naturedly.
“I ain’t a bettin’ man, but I can show!”
“Well, you show, and I’ll lay fifty cents against you. You’ll be umpire, Slim, and hold the stakes. Is that a go?”
“I don’t ’ave no truck o’ that kind,” Lovey declared, loftily. “I’m a doer, I am—when I get a-goin’. I don’t brag beforehand—not like some.”
I was still curious, however, about myself.
“And what did you make out of my looks, Pyn?”