Even in the dim light he could guess at the curiosity in her eyes.
“Mine is Jac—Jacqueline During. I’m awfully glad to shake hands with you.”
There was a little pause.
“I suppose Maurie Gordon is nearly at the dance by this time?” he said tentatively.
She nodded. The lump in her throat kept her silent.
“How tall are you?” he asked suddenly.
“Five feet five and a half.”
“What’s your weight?”
“One hundred and twenty. Say, Carrigan, what you drivin’ at?”
He looked away as if making a mental note.