Duffy looked at him sharply. Perhaps he wasn’t so dumb as he looked. “You mind?” he asked curtly.
The attendant blinked. He hastily said, “I didn’t mean anythin’.”
Duffy gave him a couple of bucks, then he went round the car and got in beside Annabel. She engaged the gear and the Cadillac rolled up the slipway.
“Where are we going?” she asked.
Duffy had already thought that one out. “There’s a little burial ground on the East side, beyond Greenwich Village,” he said, “we’re going there.”
She shot a quick glance at him. “That’s cute,” she said.
Duffy leant back against the leather. “You’re a swell kid,” he said quietly, “this is my unlucky day.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I’ll never bring this up again,” he said, “but I can’t leave it like that. I want you to know that I appreciate what you offered me, but that guy would have stiffened up by the time we were through, so I had to pass it up. You got plenty of reason to be sore at me.”
She said nothing for a few moments. “I’m not sore at you,” she said at last. “I think you’re cute to throw me back at myself.”