"Well, that sounds good." A thousand dollars! What a time he could have with that! Broadway for him as soon as he got paid off.
As they sped down Seventh Avenue, the newsboys were yelling the latest editions. "Ex—try! Ex—try! Blacks turning white! Blacks turning white!... Read all about the gr-r-reat discovery! Paper, Mister! Paper!... Read all about Dr. Crookman."
He settled back while they drove through the park and glanced frequently at the girl by his side. She looked mighty good; wonder could he talk business with her? Might go to dinner and a cabaret. That would be the best way to start.
"What did you say your name was?" he began.
"I didn't say," she stalled.
"Well, you have a name, haven't you?" he persisted.
"Suppose I have?"
"You're not scared to tell it, are you?"
"Why do you want to know my name?"
"Well, there's nothing wrong about wanting to know a pretty girl's name, is there?"