He sat at the wheel of a little coupé; his straw hat was pushed back on his head, and his curly hair was matted and damp on his forehead; his face was flushed.
“No, thanks!” said Susie. “I feel like walking.”
“I know what that dame said to you,” he remarked.
“Do you?” said Susie, and began to walk. But he drove along with the utmost slowness beside her.
“‘A swindler,’ she called you,” Hobart Minck went on. “And then you said to her, you said, ‘You’ll hear from me.’”
“That’s right,” said Susie, keeping her head turned away.
“Listen!” he said. “Why not let me handle this? I can fix her. Look at the experience I’ve had! Every kind of crook. Every kind.”
“She’s not a crook,” said Susie, briefly.
“I know that. Just a mere doop is what she is. But somebody’s soitenly been putting ideas i
