"All right," he said. "And now run along to your little bed, sister. I'm busy."
"Busy! What about?"
"I've got behind in my sleeping tonight. I'll have to try and catch up."
She eyed him shrewdly. Whatever her idea had been in coming in, she probably abandoned it then, but she made no move to go.
"Let me finish this, anyhow."
He smiled at that, rolled himself a cigarette and sat down on the bed.
"That's right. Now—what else, besides the shoes?"
"I've told you. You soak 'em and"
Suddenly she laughed.
"You're a funny boy," she said. "You could do that in bed, if that's the idea. Come on, tell me. Is it a girl?"
He stiffened.
"It is, isn't it?"
"You finish and vamoose, before we both get thrown out of this hotel."
"Oh, that's all right," she said easily. "They know me. Doesn't she like you?"
"That's not the trouble."
"Is she married?"
"No."
"Or you?"
"No."
She got up, flicking the cigarette into his wash basin, and drawing her kimono around her.
"Then what's the matter with you?" she said. "Go and get her. With your looks you should worry."
The next moment she was gone. He stood staring at the door after she had closed it behind her. Go and get her. Go and get her. Well, go and see her anyhow. See how things stood between them. He reached into his trousers pocket and began to count his money.
With daylight he was somewhat less assured, and his feet hurt him damnably. But when he went downstairs there was the girl again, on her way out and looking quite neat
