“Aw, come on. What’s the matter?”
“You think you’re jus’—hell on wheels.”
“Now wait a minute.”
“You think I got to go out with you. Well, I don’t! I got lots of chances.”
“Now wait a minute.”
“No, sir—you git away.”
Al lunged suddenly, caught her by the ankle, and tripped her. He grabbed her when she fell and held her and put his hand over her angry mouth. She tried to bite his palm, but he cupped it out over her mouth, and he held her down with his other arm. And in a moment she lay still, and in another moment they were giggling together in the dry grass.
“Why, we’ll be a-comin’ back purty soon,” said Al. “An’ I’ll have a pocketful a jack. We’ll go down to Hollywood an’ see the pitchers.”
She was lying on her back. Al bent over her. And he saw the bright evening star reflected in her eyes, and he saw the black cloud reflected in her eyes. “We’ll go on the train,” he said.
“How long ya think it’ll be?” she asked.