"You might call it that," returned Matt dryly.
He had his back to his passenger, so that he might pick a berth for the Sprite somewhere in the vicinity of the foot of Clay Street. When he spoke he did not look around.
"Well, I'm obliged to you," proceeded Thompson. "I guess you needn't take me to Sausalito, after all. I'll get out and go to a hotel. There's a lot of hotels on the 'Front.'"
"Stay away from the hotels on the 'Front,' Thompson; that's my advice to you. They're not the right sort of place for a fellow like you to stop, even for a short time."
"I guess I can take care of myself," was the haughty rejoinder.
"I guess you think you can, Thompson. You seem to have a pretty large opinion of yourself."
"Are you trying to insult me?"
"Great spark plugs, no! Why should I want to do that?"
"I don't like the way you talk, that's all. You act as though you didn't believe what I said."
"That's where your imagination is working overtime. What is it to me, one way or the other, whether you're telling the truth or not?"