“How about the gals? Guess you hand ’em a tidy pile.”
“Gals!” Ike suddenly became thoughtful. His gaze wandered toward the window. Then he abruptly turned back to the bar and clamored for another drink. “We’ll have that thirteen-year-old,” he cried. “An’ guess I’ll have a double dose. Gals!” he went on, with a sneer, as the other watched him fill a brimming tumbler.
“Ther’s sure on’y one gal around here. That’s why I got around now. Guess I’m payin’ her a ‘party’ call right now, ’fore the folks get around. Say, I’m goin’ to marry that gal. She’s sure a golden woman. Golden! Gee, it sounds good!”
Beasley grinned. He was on a hot trail and he warmed to his work.
“Goin’ to ask her now?” he inquired amiably, eyeing the spirit the man had poured out.
Ike laughed self-consciously.
“Sure,” he said, draining his glass.
“What about Pete?”
Ike looked sharply into the other’s grinning face. Then he banged his glass angrily on the counter and moved toward the door.