He shook his head. “I guess I got you into a spot the other night, but you ain’t doing anything to help me get you out of it. You’re holding back on me.”
She came over to him. “May I smoke?” she said.
He took out his case and she took one. He lit it for her. “Your poor face,” she said softly.
“Quit stalling,” he said impatiently. “You know, if you don’t play ball, I’m going to ditch you.”
“Please don’t get that way.” She went and sat down in a low, overstuffed chair. She crossed her legs, and Duffy grinned.
“You women,” he said, “you think you’ve only got to show what you’ve got, and a man will roll over on his back, with his paws raised. Now, listen, this is important. What are you doing up here? How did you get a key to this joint?”
She studied her red finger-nails. “Suppose I said that I can’t tell you?”
“Okay, you can’t tell me. Well, those photos can take care of themselves.”
She raised her heavy lashes and looked at him. “Honest, Bill, just now I can’t tell you.”
He slid off the table. “I’m going to look round this joint,” he said shortly, “you sit there.”