“I bet you did,” said Ginger enviously.
“By the way, she did not give you her address by any chance?”
“Why?” said Ginger suspiciously. His attitude towards Sally's address resembled somewhat that of a connoisseur who has acquired a unique work of art. He wanted to keep it to himself and gloat over it.
“Well, I—er—I promised to send her some books she was anxious to read...”
“I shouldn't think she gets much time for reading.”
“Books which are not published in America.”
“Oh, pretty nearly everything is published in America, what? Bound to be, I mean.”
“Well, these particular books are not,” said Mr. Carmyle shortly. He was finding Ginger's reserve a little trying, and wished that he had been more inventive.
“Give them to me and I'll send them to her,” suggested Ginger.
“Good Lord, man!” snapped Mr. Carmyle. “I'm capable of sending a few books to America. Where does she live?”