"Are you sure, Mr. Savanrola, that he has left the station?"
"Saw him check out with my own eyes," he said calmly.
I moved nearer, my hands twitching.
"Now with an honest old seafaring man like myself," he continued, in a
confidential voice, "it's different. Why, if I should wear all the
hash marks I rate I'd look like a zebra. So I just don't wear any. You
know how it is. But when I like a girl I stick to her. Now from the
very first moment I laid eyes on you--"
Human endurance could stand no more. I threw myself between them.
"Why, here's Oswald hisself," exclaimed the reporter with masterfully
feigned surprise. "However did you get back so soon?"
"I have never been away anywhere to get back from, and you know it," I
replied coldly.
"Strange!" he said, "I could have sworn that I saw you checking out.
Can I get you some ice cream?" he added smoothly.
"What on?" I replied bitterly, knowing him always to be broke.
"Your mother must have--"
"Come," said I to Polly, "leave this degraded creature to ply his
pernicious trade alone. I have some very important words to say to
you."
"Good-by, Mr. Savanrola," said Polly.
"Until we meet again," answered the reporter, with the utmost
confidence.
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