"I like it better with just you, Jimmie."
"Sweetness, don't you look at me like that or you'll get me so mixed up
I'll go out and buy the Metropolitan Tower for your Christmas present.
Whatta you want for Christmas—eh, Doll?"
"Aw, Jimmie, I don't want nothing. I 'ain't got no right to take nothing from you!" She played with the rich, unpronounceable foods on her plate and took a swallow of golden liquid to wash down her fiery confusion. "I—'ain't got no right."
"When I get to likin' a little girl there ain't nothing she 'ain't got a right to."
"Aw, Jimmie, when you talk like that I feel so—so—"
"So what, Doll?"
"So—so—"
"Gowann, Doll."
"Aw, I can't say it. You'll think I'm fresh."
But she regarded him with the nervous eyes of a gazelle and the red swam high up into her hair, and he drained his glass down to the bottom of its hollow stem and leaned his warming face closer.