Floramae started in her seat with a jump that rocked the ancient auto to its very tires. Stout of heart in the face of bulls, bison or buffoons, the poor girl had one fatal fear which she could not control; she had such an abhorrence of snakes that even the mention of the word set her great frame atremble with panic.
"Snake!" she screamed. "Where?"
"There ain't no snake," Dalmer said. "I only said you was pretty."
"What a lousy time for compliments!" Floramae shrieked. "Here's this damned snake snapping at us, and you make sweet talk! You got no brains? Kill that snake and be snappy!"
Dalmer struggled to renew his grasp on the quivering girl. "I only try to say something nice and all of a sudden the place is full of snakes. Fer gosh sakes, Floramae!"
"There's more than one?" Floramae screamed. "Let go of me! Let me outa here!" She threw the door open and prepared to heave herself to the road. "What a fierce thing to do to a girl, Dalmer Boyde! Bringin' snakes on a date. It'll serve you good and right if I faint right here in the road and get squashed by a truck!"
"Aw, Floramae!" Dalmer pleaded. "Don't act so crazy about nothin'."
"You call it nothin'?" Floramae demanded to know. "I call it a dirty trick! If you ever dast to speak to me again I'll bite you!"
"Floramae!" Dalmer said.
But Floramae was on her way. Jumping from the car, she landed solidly in the center of the road. She started forward, then stopped as two figures, a man and a woman, loomed vaguely before her in the night. It was Marc and Toffee.