He glanced at the Angel. NOW would she see?
"On my soul!" he muttered under his breath. "They don't aven touch her!"
She laid down her sunshade and gloves. She walked to the end of the
counter and turned the full battery of her eyes on the attendant.
"Please," she said.
The white-aproned individual stepped back and gave delighted assent. The
Angel stepped beside him, and selecting a tall, flaring glass, of almost
paper thinness, she stooped and rolled it in a tray of cracked ice.
"I want to mix a drink for my friend," she said. "He has a long, hot
ride before him, and I don't want him started off with one of those old
palate-teasing sweetnesses that you mix just on purpose to drive a man
back in ten minutes." There was an appreciative laugh from the line at
the counter.
"I want a clear, cool, sparkling drink that has a tang of acid in it.
Where's the cherry phosphate? That, not at all sweet, would be good;
don't you think?"
The attendant did think. He pointed out the different taps, and the
Angel compounded the drink, while Freckles, standing so erect he almost
leaned backward, gazed at her and paid no attention to anyone else.
Pages:
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190
191