Clark’s voice punctuated the embarrassment.
“Won’t you join us, Mr. Taylor?”
“Thanks.”
Mr. Taylor spread his unwelcome presence over a chair. “Have to, I guess. I’m waiting till they dig me up some gasolene. Somebody got funny with my car.”
His eyes narrowed and he looked quickly from one to the other. Jim wondered what he had heard from the doorway—tried to remember what had been said.
“I’m right to-night,” Nancy sang out, “and my four bits is in the ring.”
“Faded!” snapped Taylor suddenly.
“Why, Mr. Taylor, I didn’t know you shot craps!” Nancy was overjoyed to find that he had seated himself and instantly covered her bet. They had openly disliked each other since the night she had definitely discouraged a series of rather pointed advances.
“All right, babies, do it for your mamma. Just one little seven.” Nancy was cooing to the dice. She rattled them with a brave underhand flourish, and rolled them out on the table.
“Ah-h! I suspected it. And now again with the dollar up.”