Shayne chuckled. “It would take more than rain to spoil their fun. If it rains everybody out of the streets there’s enough room to open up in some of these old buildings.”
“But the streets would be all muddy — and slippery,” she protested. “I think it would be a shame.”
“We can’t complain, angel,” he answered. “We’ve had a good week up here. It has to rain sometimes, you know.”
“Oh, it has been fun! I was thrilled to meet some of the actors and actresses. Why, they’re just like other people. I’d always imagined they would be snooty.” She laughed gaily as the wind whipped her short skirt.
Shayne pulled his hat tighter on his red head and looked up at the darkened sky. An ominous black cloud appeared to hang lower than the gray film. It moved in the high wind, growing larger momently.
“Looks like we’re going to get it,” he said, “and quick.”
“There’s no use trying to hurry,” Phyllis laughed. “That is, unless everybody hurries.”
Raindrops suddenly spattered in the street, a forerunner of the deluge that sent the crowd scurrying for shelter. Michael and Phyllis were swept along by mass movement into a huge and well-stocked general store, the largest and only modern establishment in the town.
Pushing their way through the double doors, Phyllis shivered from the icy wetness of her suit, but her dark eyes sparkled as they flashed around the walls and occasionally glimpsed a gaily bedecked counter through an opening between the throng of shelter seekers.
“I’ve been planning to lure you in here,” she said, “ever since I saw the marvelous display of Indian blankets in the window.”