"Of course, since you put it that way, I'll be pleased to accept your invitation, Mr. Barker."
He struck the table with his free hand.
"You're a live un, all right. How about callin' round fer you at six this evenin'?"
She nodded assent.
"Good goil! We'll keep the speedometer busy, all right!"
She skidded the palms of her hands over his nails. "There," she said, "that's not a bad shine."
He straightened his hands out before him and regarded them in mock scrutiny. "Those are some classy grabbers," he said; "and you're some classy little woiker."
He watched her replace the crystal stoppers in their several bottles and fit her various commodities into place. She ranged the scissors and files in neat graduated rows and blew powder particles off the cover with prettily pursed lips.
"That'll be about all, Mr. Barker."
He ambled reluctantly out from his chair.