She nodded her head in affirmation and gently patted the little fellow. “My, but he’s a cute little rascal!”
The hard-boiled sergeant kissed the infant and, with much concern, handed it back to the anxious mother, also taking a coin from his pocket and placing it in the baby’s small hand.
As they started back toward the road, Williams pulled a tropical flower from a bush, and gave it to the girl.
“These flowers remind me of a barber shop,” he explained, at loss to think of a more appropriate comparison, “only they’ve got cologne beat all hollow, ain’t they?”
Elinor’s intuition warned her that it was time to sidetrack Panama’s flow of romantic thoughts and crude manner of expression, so she conveniently changed the trend of conversation by asking about Lefty in an assumed manner of indifference.
“He’s fine and tickled pink with his first taste of campaign duty!” Williams replied.
“Are you living together?”
“Sure thing! We’re pals! Say—listen to that music now. Ain’t it grand?”
She walked a little ahead of him, completely enveloped with the magic of the dreamy, tropical music, listening ecstatically, unmindful of the nervous state Panama was in as he fumbled for the diamond ring through his pockets.
He finally discovered it and brought it out, half hiding it as he struggled to gain enough courage to broach the subject he had promised himself to bring up that night.