With a mocking smile, she held up a watch.
“I took that off you slick as anything when you passed the coffee. It was like taking candy from a baby.”
Anger at her nerve and chagrin that he had been so neatly tricked kept him silent.
“It’s not altogether a habit,” she continued in mock apology; “it’s a gift.”
“Jo got her number wrong,” he thought. “She was just playing him with her sad, nice, little-girl manner. For his sake, I’ll see that they don’t meet. I wonder just why she is playing this role with me?”
“You might give me credit for returning your ticker,” she said in abused tone.
“I never knew but one other person,” he said coolly, “that affected me as unpleasantly as you do.”
“Who was that?” she asked interestedly.
“A cow-puncher—Centipede Pete.”
“Some name! Why don’t you ask me my name, Kurt? Don’t look so contemptuous. I am going to tell you, because it doesn’t sound like me. It’s Penelope.”