“No.”
“What?” she asked, startled. “Of course you are.”
I said, “It’s the redhead, isn’t it? The one with the grey eyes?”
She looked at me with just the faintest suggestion of a scowl. Her eyes were big. “Say, who are you?” she asked suspiciously.
“Oh, forget it,” I said. “I’m sorry I said anything.”
“Say, what kind of a frame-up is this?” she demanded.
“Skip it,” I told her.
The waiter brought two more Martinis, together with a check. I pulled out two dollar notes from my pocket. He scooped up the two dollars and put down two quarters. I took a dime and two pennies from my pocket, and put the assortment on the table and picked up the two quarters.
As the waiter glowered at the twelve cents, I said, “Eat your olive before the water gets to it, Lucille.”
The waiter scooped up the money, walked over and said something to the manager.