Benny’s face fell, and he became depressed again. “No,” he admitted, “I didn’t. As a matter of fact, Caston, old boy, I came for a little advice.”
Caston smiled. Things were looking up. He liked giving advice. He settled back in his chair and lit a cigarette. “Sure,” he said. “What’s the trouble?” For a moment he had a sudden qualm that Benny was going to touch him for some dough, but on second thoughts he knew that wasn’t Benny’s usual opening when he made a touch.
Benny hung his feet over the side of the chair. “Well, Sadie and I have had a quarrel,” he said bitterly. “She properly shot her mouth off last night.”
Caston made sympathetic noises. “Nice girl, Sadie,” he said. He often wondered why a swell looker like Sadie had fallen for Perminger. He could have gone a long way to have made her himself.
“Sure, she’s a nice girl, but she’s got a damn odd way of looking at things. Would you believe it, she’s accusing me of always lookin’ at girls? She even had the neck to say that I’d be makin’ a pass at one of them one day.”
Caston shrugged. “Well, won’t you?”
Benny looked vacant. “Well, yes, I suppose I will,” he admitted. “But she won’t know about it.”
“Listen, Perminger, wasn’t that a dame I saw you out with the other night?”
Benny scowled at him. “What else do you think it was?” he snapped. “A horse?”
“Steady, buddy,” Caston said. “No need to go off the deep end. What I meant was, she wasn’t Sadie?”