"Wait till you know me better, kiddo. I'll learn you a whole lot about me that'll surprise you."
His hand groped for hers; she drew it away gently, but her voice was also gentle:
"Here we are home, Mr. Barker."
In front of her lower West Side rooming-house he helped her carefully to alight, regarding her sententiously in the flare of the street lamp.
"You're my style, all right, kiddo. My speedometer registers you pretty high."
She giggled.
"I'm here to tell you that you look good to me, and—and—I—anything on fer to-morrow night?"
"No," she said, softly.
"Are you on?"
She nodded.