He was very much excited. He read the account three or four times. He recognised the dress that Rhoda was wearing in the snapshot. He spoke to the saloon keeper again.
“This is my greatest friend in California,” he said in a trembling voice, hoping that the saloon keeper would be very much interested.
“Well, what do you know about that?” said the host, taking the paper patiently. “She’s a looker too, I’ll say. Well, it’s good hearing for you that she ain’t ona these Reds. We had a Red once blaaing around in this city—wanted a hired man’s strike....”
“Yes, isn’t it funny, I even know that dress. Those little buttons are green.” Edward was quite unlike himself. He was so hungry.
“Is that right? You bin going with her, I guess,” said the saloon keeper, looking at him sharply. “Well, who’s to blame you, she surely looks a classy dame.”
“I want to go back to see her,” said Edward. “I didn’t think I should ever see her again. Now she’s free and anyone can see her.”
He was much pleased that his host thought he was in love with Rhoda. He felt that the thing gave him a halo of interest and pathos. He thought that the saloon keeper would describe the incident to other customers later in the day. “Had a guy in here ... picks up the Examiner ... intellectual looking guy too....”
“I want to go back to her,” said Edward, “but I haven’t a cent. That is to say, of course, I have ten—enough, I hope, to pay for the brandy.”
“The brandy’s two bits,” amended his host doubtfully. “That’s too bad. How come?”