How he wanted a drink! He looked longingly at the row of bottles along the chromium shelves behind the bar. He hadn’t two dol ars to rub together! Looking thoughtfully at the barman he wondered if he could get credit. Reluctantly he decided not to try. He didn’t want to attract any at ention to himself. The barman was certain to consult Rico.
He felt in his hip pocket for his cigarette-case, opened it and found it empty. Oh, damn Eve! Why couldn’t she come? Angrily he replaced the case in his pocket and began to drum on the counter with his finger-tips.
The barman came over to him and offered him a cigarette from a crumpled pack.
‘I get caught myself like that some nights,’ he said amiably. ‘Makes me want to walk across the ceiling. Help yourself.’
Gillis stiffened with mortification and rage. A damned lackey offering him a cigarette! The blasted cheek of the man!
‘I don’t smoke a barman’s cigaret es,’ he said venomously, ‘Kindly mind your own business and let me mind mine!’
The barman flushed. He looked as if he wanted to hit Gillis, but he swallowed his anger with an effort and put the pack back in his pocket.
‘If that’s the way you feel about it,’ he said, ‘I’m sorry I spoke.’
He walked to the other end of the bar and began to polish glasses, his flush deepening as he appreciated more fully the snub he had received.
Gillis got off the stool and walked out into the lobby.