She spoke gently; altogether her manner was so much more subdued this morning that he felt the same wave of pity he had felt when Bender had first mentioned her case to him.
“I am sorry,” he said, “that you had to stay out here all night. It was my fault; but you will have a more comfortable resting place to-night.”
A sound was heard: a modern, welcome sound, breaking in distractingly on the primeval silence. Kurt hastened to the road and saw the encouraging prelude of dust. The passing tourist gave him the requisite supply of gasoline and continued on his way.
“Come on, Pen!” called the sheriff.
She suppressed a smile as she followed.
“You called me by my first name,” she couldn’t resist reminding him.
“I didn’t know your last one,” he responded quickly and resentfully as he helped her into the car.
“Let me think. I’ve had so many aliases—suppose I make out a list and let you take your choice. Most of my pals call me ‘The Thief.’”
The look of yesterday came back to his eyes at her flippant tone and words.
“Don’t!” he said harshly. “This morning I had forgotten what you were.”