"
"I mean--what kind is it?"
"Haven't you got eyes?"
"It's too dark."
"It's a second-hand tin Lizzie," said Walter. "D'you know what
that means? It means a flivver."
"Yes, Walter."
"Got 'ny 'bjections?"
"Why, no, dear," she said, placatively. "Is it yours, Walter?
Have you bought it?"
"Me?" he laughed. "_I_ couldn't buy a used wheelbarrow. I rent
this sometimes when I'm goin' out among 'em. Costs me seventy-five
cents and the price o' the gas."
"That seems very moderate."
"I guess it is! The feller owes me some money, and this is the
only way I'd ever get it off him."
"Is he a garage-keeper?"
"Not exactly!" Walter uttered husky sounds of amusement. "You'll
be just as happy, I guess, if you don't know who he is," he said.
His tone misgave her; and she said truthfully that she was
content not to know who owned the car. "I joke sometimes about
how you keep things to yourself," she added, "but I really never
do pry in your affairs, Walter."
"Oh, no, you don't!"
"Indeed, I don't."
"Yes, you're mighty nice and cooing when you got me where you
want me," he jeered. "Well, _I_ just as soon tell you where I
get this car."
"I'd just as soon you wouldn't, Walter," she said, hurriedly.
"Please don't."
But Walter meant to tell her.
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