He did not turn broadside-on as Daisy drew near, but spoke to her from sidewise, sliding his glances out of the corner of his eye and his words out of the corner of his mouth:
"Got nothin' except hand-luggage, lady, huh?"
Daisy looked a little puzzled.
"Naw trunks, I mean," elucidated Mr. Markey, nasally; "get me?"
"N-no, there's no trunks; just the two grips."
"Just the one grip," corrected her catechist, dramatically, fetching up Daisy's old telescope-bag from under the counter; "just this—see?"
Daisy looked at it: Mr. Markey eyed her, tangently.
"Ketch the point?" he said, after a moment, "we got no secur'tee for your board bill. You pay in advance—see?"
Remembering Beatty's purse, still in her possession, Daisy, a little flustered by Mr. Markey's abruptness, reached into the front of her blouse. The purse was still there, nestling against her waist-band; and, with a little thrill of self-congratulation at the initiative that had brought the pocket-book into her possession, Daisy drew it out, rested it on the counter, and made to slip off the elastic.