She was vexed with
him still, but it would have been stupid as well as ungrateful to show her
annoyance except by being elaborately polite. After all, she owed him
gratitude, which she had wished for a chance to pay.
She put out her hand, and he radiated joy as he took it. Happiness was
becoming to Nick. An all too cordial grip he gave, then loosened his grasp
in a fright; "I hope I haven't hurt you!" he exclaimed, horrified.
Angela laughed. "Only a tiny bit; and that's better than a fishy
handshake. Luckily, I left my sharpest rings in New York. And, oh, the
gold bag you saved is gone forever! I've just had it stolen."
"That's too bad," he remarked. But he did not look cast down. "I'll
rummage New Orleans for it, if you give me leave to have a try," he
volunteered.
"Thank you," she said. "But I shall have to tell the police, I suppose.
Not that there's much hope."
"You wouldn't let me set the ball rolling, would you?" he asked, as if he
were begging a favour instead of wishing to do one. "I mean go to the
police for you, and all that?"
"How kind you are!" exclaimed Angela. "But--no, indeed, I won't spoil your
visit to New Orleans as I did your visit to New York."
Nick looked astounded. "What makes you think you spoiled my visit to New
York?"
Here was Angela's chance for a gentle reproach, and she could not resist
the temptation of administering it, wrapped in sugar.
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