McCartney's efforts to make a joke of the whole affair were pathetically inadequate, and served only to heighten Currie's suspicion. But the girl stood up and faced McCartney with a look that was as cold as it was direct.
"Say, Bill McCartney," she remarked in a voice that was cutting in its deliberateness, "does Lush Currie think I'm tippin' you off to his hand? Well, listen to me. I've been lookin' a whole long time for the kind of man I'd do that for an'—you—ain't—him."
McCartney's expression changed suddenly.
"What the hell are you anyhow?" he asked, with a sneer, and turned to Currie. "Your bet, Currie."
For answer Currie threw his cards into the centre of the table and got up from his chair.
"This game can go on without me," he said, and he moved his chair back and walked away from the group.
A couple of the players put out restraining hands and tried to persuade him to go on with the game. Cheney came forward and invited him to take a drink, but Currie was obstinate.
"I don't sit in to no game with a——"
The epithet he used brought McCartney to his feet. He pushed his chair to one side with his foot and stepped towards Currie.
"You ain't big enough to say that to me," he said, tossing his cigarette to one side.