Martin looked at her and saw the rakish, ill-fitting dress, the tired expression in her eyes and the affected smile.
“Won’t you keep them?” he asked.
“Thanks, Mister. That’s swell,” she said, stuffing them in her bag. “But d’you have any?” Here she hesitated. “You better have one,” she said at last, carefully selecting a cigarette and handing it to him.
He accepted it and put it in his trousers pocket.
“Not there,” she cautioned. “You’ll smash it. Put it there.” She pointed to the pocket of his coat.
Unthinkingly, he obeyed her.
“Say,” she said, peering at him. “You look hungry.”
“I’m not hungry,” Martin smiled at her. “But now, I have to hurry.” He smiled at her again, then walked on rapidly.
The girl kept at his side, looking at him, her mouth slightly open.