“Fourteen degrees of frost in her smile,” said that worthy, “but I’m bettin’ on a river runnin’ under the ice.”
“Are you goin’ to dance?”
“Nope. I need a drink. Have one on me?”
“I got work ahead,” said Carrigan, and made for Dolly Maxwell.
CHAPTER VI. THE GIRL FROM FIFTH AVENUE.
“‘So long,’” quoted Jac. “Is that the Western way of saving good-by, Mr. Gordon?”
There was a serious question in her eyes. Maurie leaned back and drew a deep breath.
“Maybe your friend Carrigan talks that way, an’ I’ve heard some others say the same thing, but it ain’t considered partic’lar choice. Most of us says ‘adios’ or something like that.”
“Oh, I thought it was rather queer, but then Mr. Carrigan is”—she paused—“rather queer in lots of ways!”
It was plain that she considered him different. The music began. They danced. The rather diffident arm of big Maurie gathered strength and confidence.