"Gratitude and a pretty woman are a dangerous combination," said Gunther gruffly; "especially for something soft like you."
"You damned, impertinent cuss," said Beecher acridly.
"Fact. Better let me call a messenger boy and send it around."
But in the pleased state of mind in which he was, Beecher had not the slightest intention of surrendering the delightful opportunity which the visit promised. Likewise, he was indignant at hearing from Gunther the same implications which amused him from the lips of a fascinating woman like Emma Fornez.
"You've got a fine idea of me," he answered hotly.
"I have."
"According to you, I oughtn't to be allowed to roam the streets without a keeper."
"Exactly expressed."
"Don't alarm yourself," said Beecher in a lofty, superior tone, and, believing every word, he added, "I'm quite able to take care of myself. I know how to amuse myself—and I know it is amusing myself, thank you. You think I don't know anything about women—well, I know better than some people how to keep my head straight."
"So you're going around?" said Gunther with a grin.