“Please—Maurie!”
“All right,” he said, relenting slowly. “I’ll see you later.”
As he retreated, Jac turned to Dave Carey. He was standing stiffly, like a soldier awaiting orders.
“‘I’ll see you later!’” she quoted. “I wonder if I should consider that a promise or a threat, Mr. Carey? Or is it just a westernism?”
Dave Carey expanded. He knew that the girl in the fluffy pink dress was watching him with a white face.
“Poor ol’ Maurie,” he said gently. “He ain’t much on manners. He was never given much of a bringin’ up. Maybe you noticed it sort of in his way of talkin’. You’re lookin’ sort of sad.”
She was gazing pensively on the happy faces of Dolly Maxwell and Carrigan. Now she lowered a gloomy eye to the floor.
“I try to seem gay, Mr. Carey.”
“But there’s somethin’ eatin’ on your mind?”
She looked up with childish admiration. “How could you tell? But you westerners see everything.”