"Well, I am. So now you know." He pulled away from her, but she twined her arm the tighter about his.
"Ain't sore at me, are yuh, Buzz?"
"No. Leggo my arm."
"If you're sore because I been foolin' round with that little wart of a Donahue—" She turned wise eyes up to him, trying to make them limpid in the darkness.
"What do I care who you run with?"
"Don't you care, Buzz?" The words were soft but there was a steel edge to her utterance.
"No."
"Oh, Buzz, I'm batty about you. I can't help it, can I? H'm? Look here, you go on to Grand, and hang around for an hour, maybe, and I'll meet you here an' we'll walk a ways. Will you? I got something to tell you."
"Naw, I can't to-night. I'm busy."
And then the steel edge cut. "Buzz, if you turn me down I'll have you up."