The taxi swung to the kerb, and he got out. There was something familiar in the taxi-driver’s face. Duffy looked at him hard. The taxi-driver grinned at him.
“You must love that dame,” he observed. “The last time I brought you to this joint you had to be carried, and now, God love me, she’s scratched you to hell again.”
Duffy gave him some money. “One of these days,” he said evenly, “someone’s going to take a dislike to you.”
The taxi-driver grinned some more. “T should worry,” he said.
Duffy left him and walked up the steps to the apartment.
CHAPTER VII
WHEN MCGUIRE GOT in from work, he found Duffy and Alice in the kitchen. Duffy was standing over the stove, a heavy frown on his face, watching a large steak grilling.
McGuire took one look at him and said, “For God’s sake, he’s been at it again.”
Alice looked up with a mischievous smile. She was peeling potatoes at the sink. “He won’t say a word.”
Duffy scowled. “For the love of Mike, pipe down,” he said. “What if my girl friend did get tough?”