“Looks like it” retorted the gambler. “You're Exhibit A to prove it, ain't you, Miss Pickett? I hope I see you well, Mrs. Pennycook” he added.
“So you're back, are you?” Mrs. Pennycook's voice dripped with sarcasm.
“Yes, I've been away three years, but I see time ain't softened the tongues nor sharpened the consciences o' some of my old lady friends. You're out late this afternoon, Mrs. P., with your scandal an' your gossip.”
“There ain't no mail for you, Mr. Card Sharp” Miss Pickett informed him acidly.
“I didn't call for any” the gambler replied, and eyed her sternly. She quivered under his glance, and he turned to Mrs. Pennycook. “Would you oblige me, Mrs. Pennycook, with a few minutes of your valuable time—where Miss Pickett can't hear us talk? Miss Pickett, you can go right on readin' the postal cards.”
“I'm a respectable woman—” Mrs. Pennycook began.
“Well, it ain't ketchin', I guess” he retorted. “I ain't afraid.”
“What do you want? If you've got anything to say to me, speak right out in meeting.”
“Not here” the gambler answered. “It'll keep.”
He walked out of the post-office and waited until Mrs. Pennycook came by.