Josie fingered the contents of her purse expectantly, but Duncan hung in the wind. He had no least notion what might be the price of soda water. "Two for a quarter?" he hazarded with his disarming grin.
Angle choked with appreciation of this exquisite sally. "Ain't you funny!"
"I'm afraid you're right," he conceded; "still I'd rather you didn't think so."
"It's ten cents, isn't it, Mr. Duncan?"
Josie was offering him a dime; he accepted it without question.
"Thank you, very much," said he. "Good afternoon, ladies."
He was aware of Angle's fluttering farewells on the sidewalk. Josie was lingering on the doorstep in an agony of untrained coquetry. He lowered his tone for her benefit, thereby adding new weight to his bombardment of her amateur defences.
"Remember you promised to call again."
Her giggles tore his ear-drums. "Th-thank you, I'm sure," she stammered, and fled.
They disappeared. He wandered to the chair and threw himself limply into it. "That voice!" he said stupidly. "That giggle! I've got to woo and win... that!...