Gideon laughed. "I used to think so. And most men wouldn't
give that much to a waiter. But I feel sorry for poor devils
who don't happen to be as lucky or as brainy as I am. What do
you say to a turn in the Park? We'll take a hansom, and kind
of jog along. And we'll stop at the Casino and at Gabe's for
a drink."
"I have to get up so early " began Susan.
"Oh, that's all right." He slowly winked at her. "You'll not
have to bump the bumps for being late tomorrow--if you treat
_me_ right."
He carried his liquor easily. Only in his eyes and in his ever
more slippery smile that would slide about his face did he show
that he had been drinking. He helped her into a hansom with a
flourish and, overruling her protests, bade the driver go to
the Casino. Once under way she was glad; her hot skin and her
weary heart were grateful for the air blowing down the avenue
from the Park's expanse of green. When Gideon attempted to put
his arm around her, she moved close into the corner and went on
talking so calmly about calm subjects that he did not insist.
But when he had tossed down a drink of whiskey at the Casino
and they resumed the drive along the moonlit, shady roads, he
tried again.
"Please," said she, "don't spoil a delightful evening."
"Now look here, my dear--haven't I treated you right?"
"Indeed you have, Mr. Gideon."
"Oh, don't be so damned formal.
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