"Come off it," snorted Guido. "Who did he fool?"
"Nnn ... nobody who met her, I suppose. He tried, but—"
"But this was the first woman he ever had, and it was such a big event he couldn't hide it. He was a lousy liar. Just for kicks, I badgered him till he broke down and admitted it to me."
"It was her idea," said Kintyre. "He wanted to marry her."
"Be this as it may," said Guido, "our little tin Jesus turns out to've been less than frank with everybody. So what else did he have cooking? Don't ask what I'm mixed up in. Look into his doings."
"I might," said Kintyre, "except that you have explained to me how poor a liar he was."
The girl came back with a pint of bourbon and a chit for Guido to sign. She leaned far over to set down a bottle of soda and two glasses of ice, so Kintyre could have a good look down her dress.
"Man," said Guido when she had oscillated off again, "Laura's got ants tonight. If you don't help yourself to that, I will."
"Why offer me the chance in the first place?" asked Kintyre. He ignored the proffered glass, sticking to his beer.
"I was going out on the town when I finished here. Know some places, they cost but they're worth it." Guido slugged his own glass full, added a dash of mix, and drank heartily. "They'll keep till tomorrow, though."