"Yes, that's so," said Jimmy; "Yes, that's—that's so. But I—I—"
"'M?" said Daisy, feeling something in her companion's cadence that caused a soft little titillation of her nerves. She drew back further into the shadow as she felt her cheeks grow involuntarily warm.
"I know two of a kind—both of 'em easy-goin', I mean—that mightn't fight any more than oncet a week, at the outside. Do you think you could stand for that, Friend Nix—Friend Daisy?"
Daisy drew a long breath, raised her face, and looked clear-eyed at her companion.
"I know what you mean," she said, glad that the darkness prevented cheerful, curly-headed Jimmy Knight from seeing the shine of her glance and the color of her cheeks, "but I can't. Not the way I feel these days. What happened over in the suite to-night didn't make any difference. But—well, I just can't. I'm a funny girl."
"You sure are," agreed Jimmy Knight; "how long did you say you'd need to think it over?"
"Forever," said Daisy, firmly, in spite of the beating of her heart.
"All right," responded Jimmy Knight, bravely choking down a certain obstruction that had risen in his throat, "I'll give you a day longer than that, so's it won't look as if I was rushin' you. Well—so-long, kid," he held out his hand.
"Good-bye, Jimmy Knight," Daisy gave him her hand, then drew it away gently, and ran in-doors with tears in her eyes.