Myra took them from her. “It is very kind of you,” she said.
Anita shrugged. “They will not make senorita less attractive,” she said. There was a malicious look in her eyes as she said it. She went out without looking back.
Morecombre ran his fingers through his unruly hair. “That dame is mad about something,” he said. “I didn’t like the dirty look, did you?”
Quentin went over and opened the bedroom door. “You can change in there,” he said. “I’m sure you will feel much more comfortable out of that evening affair.”
Myra said: “I will. Please don’t worry about me any further. You must have a lot to think about. I can manage now very well.” She went into the room and shut the door.
Morecombre heaved a sigh. “That’s very nice, isn’t it?” he said, jerking his head towards the door. “A little cold and standoffish, but she’d make a swell tumble, huh?”
Quentin lit a cigarette. “I don’t think you’re the only guy with that idea,” he said.
“Fuentes?”
“Yeah, that’s where the trouble’s going to start for us. We can’t very well stand by and let that punk go for her, can we?”
“Like hell,” Morecombre said. “If he starts anything like that, I’ll knock him into next week.”