He took the hand—imitating her interested manner—scrutinizing it and comparing it with his own cigarette-stained fingers. "That 's a swell little fin," he said. "Gi' me that to take home with me, will you?"
"It don't go alone."
"It don't? They only sell by the pair?"
She nodded, her face coquettishly serious. "I 'm thrown in with them, too."
"All right," he said, putting the hand in his coat pocket. "I 'll take the lot."
She leaned back, smiling at him intimately. "You have n't asked how much it 's worth."
"Gee! I thought you were givin' them to me. What d' you want fer 'em?"
"Oh, lots o' things."
"I could love you a whole lot."
"I 've heard that song before." She withdrew her hand.
"Here, hol' on!" he said, putting it back in the pocket. "That 's mine."
She hinted, demurely: "Well?"
"Well," he said, "let 's see. Board an' keep, eh?"
"What sort o' board?"
"Bread an' cheese an' kisses."
"It takes two to make kisses."
"All right. You can help."
I don't know that I know how."
"I 'll show you." He glanced around, as if preparing to follow up his offer.
