Before Tyler could open his lips to answer the girl put in, "Sure he is.
Sure I am. We been around together all afternoon."
Tyler jerked. "Why, ma'am, I guess you've made a mistake. I never saw
you before in my life. I kind of thought when you up and spoke to me you
must be taking me for somebody else. Well, now, isn't that funny--"
The smile faded from the girl's face, and it became twisted with fury.
She glared at Moran, her lips drawn back in a snarl. "Who're you to go
buttin' into my business! This guy's a friend of mine, I tell yuh!"
"Yeh? Well, he's a friend of mine, too. Me an' him had a date to meet
here right now and we're goin' over to a swell little dance on Michigan
Avenoo. So it's you who's buttin' in, Blanche, me girl."
The girl stood twisting her handkerchief savagely. She was panting a
little. "I'll get you for this."
"Beat it!" said Moran. He tucked his arm through Tyler's, with a little
impelling movement, and Tyler found himself walking up the street at a
smart gait, leaving the girl staring after them.
Tyler Kamps was an innocent, but he was not a fool. At what he had
vaguely guessed a moment before, he now knew. They walked along in
silence, the most ill-sorted pair that you might hope to find in all
that higgledy-piggledy city. And yet with a new, strong bond between
them. It was more than fraternal. It had something of the character of
the feeling that exists between a father and son who understand each
other.
Man-like, they did not talk of that which they were thinking.
Tyler broke the silence.
"Do you dance?"
"Me! Dance! Well, I've mixed with everything from hula dancers to geisha
girls, not forgettin' the Barbary Coast in the old days, but--well, I
ain't what you'd rightly call a dancer. Why you askin'?"
"Because I can't dance, either. But we'll just go up and see what it's
like, anyway."
"See wot wot's like?"