"That's better."
"Ain't it a swell night?"
"Now we're comfy—eh?"
They were nosing through a snarl of traffic and over streets wet and slimy with thaw. Men with overcoats flung over their arms side-stepped the snout of the car. Delicatessen and candy-shop doors stood wide open. Children shrilled in the grim shadows of thousand-tenant tenement-houses.
"Well, Peachy, how are you? Peachy is just the name for you, eh? 'Cause
I'd like to take a bite right out of you—eh, Peachy? How are you?"
"Fine and—and dandy."
"Look at me."
"Aw!"
"Look at me, I say, you pretty little peach, with them devilish black eyes of yours and them lips that's got a cherry on 'em."
She met his gaze with an uncertain smile trembling on her lips.