He walked to the door with the supposed traitorous jockey. There Shirley stopped for another word.
“One thing,” she said. “Send me no messages and do not come to see me. It would be too risky.”
“Right you are,” said Jones. “Good-bye.”
He turned on his heel and left without another word. Shirley also made her way from the hotel. Her eyes fell upon a clock in a window.
“Eight o’clock,” she said. “I can’t go to Clara’s yet. They will all see me. What shall I do to pass the time?”
She debated the point at length.
“I’ll stop in this drug store and have an ice cream soda, anyhow,” she finally decided.
This refreshment disposed of, Shirley reached for her purse. For the moment she forgot she was dressed in boys’ clothes, but in an instant she remembered, and thrust her hand in her pocket; and she drew it out with a cry of dismay.
She had forgotten to put her purse in her pocket, and she had no money, and there was the ice cream soda to be paid for.
The man at the cashier’s desk was looking at her suspiciously. Shirley, glancing up, caught the look. Again she made a desperate search of her pockets, but the search was futile. There was no money there.