Cherry gave a little shrug of impatience and looked away from him, letting her eyes rest upon the floor at her feet.
"You asked me what I want—what I came here for," he went on. "Well, what's the use of mixin' words? You know—an' I ain't goin' to tell you unless you've forgot. But listen to me, Cherry." He lowered his voice as he spoke. "Bill McCartney is the best friend you've got. An' he's the best friend Keith McBain's got. Your father's an old man, but he's a wise man an' he knows some things his daughter can't understand. You ain't got a better friend than me, an' the sooner you get that straight the better off you'll be."
He paused as Cherry looked at him with more impatience than before.
"You don't need to tell me all this," she said. "I've thought it all over a hundred times. I want to know what you have come here for to-night. The rest can wait for some other time."
The smile left his face as she spoke, and he seemed on the point of getting up from his chair. "Well," he began, in a voice that was pitched much higher than before, "I'm here to tell you this for one thing. There's a kind of arrangement between you an' me. You know all about that. There's goin' to be trouble for anyone who tries to spoil that arrangement. You understand?"
Cherry professed ignorance of the significance of his words.
"Don't tell me you don't know," he protested quickly. "I've got eyes to see with, an' if I hadn't there's lot's more that has, an' it ain't hard to find out what's goin' on. There's someone breakin' into my game an' he's got to get out an' stay out."
"Who?" Cherry asked in a voice that was almost coquettish.
"Who?" he blustered. "For God's sake—who?"
"Yes," she insisted, "who?"