“Oh, Girl, I’m not blind!” His eyes quailed before the look that flamed in hers. “And that was not the question.”
Instinctively something told the Girl that the man spoke the truth, but notwithstanding which, she permitted her eyes to express disbelief and “Dear me suz!” fell from her lips with an odd little laugh. On the other hand, Johnson declined to treat the subject other than seriously. He had no desire, of course, to enlarge upon the unconventionality of her attitude, but he felt that his feelings towards her, even if they were only friendly, justified him in giving her a warning. Moreover, he refused to admit to himself that this was a mere chance meeting. He had a consciousness, vague, but nevertheless real that, at last, after all his searching, Fate had brought him face to face with the one woman in all the world for him. Unknown to himself, therefore, there was a sort of jealous proprietorship in his manner towards her as he now said:
“What I meant was this: I am sorry to find you here almost at the mercy of the passer-by, where a man may come, may drink, may rob you if he will—” and here a flush of shame spread over his features in spite of himself—“and where, I daresay, more than one has laid claim to a kiss.”
The Girl turned upon him in good-natured contempt.
“There’s a good many people claimin’ things they never git. I’ve got my first kiss to give.”
Once more a brief silence fell upon them in which the Girl busied herself with her cash box. She was not unaware that his eyes were upon her, but she was by no means sure that he believed her words. Nor could she tell herself, unfortunately for her peace of mind, that it made no difference to her.
“Have you been here long?” suddenly he asked.
“Yep.”
“Lived in The Polka?”
“Nope.”