"What's his graft?" asked the girl.

"He ain't got none except being on the square. It's funny," the Lizard
philosophized, "but here's me with a bank roll that would choke a horse,
and you probably with a stocking full of dough, and I'll bet all the
money I ever had or ever expect to have if one of us could change places
with that poor simp we'd do it."

"He is a square guy, isn't he?" said the girl. "You can almost tell it
by looking at him. How did you come to know him?"

"Oh, that's a long story," said the Lizard. "We room at the same place,
but I knew him before that."

"On Indiana near Eighteenth?" asked the girl.

"How the hell did you know?" he queried.

"I know a lot of things I ain't supposed to know," replied she.

"You're a wise guy, all right, Eva, and one thing I like about you is
that you don't let anything you know hurt you."

And then, after a pause: "I like him," she said. "What's his name?"

The Lizard eyed her for a moment.

"Don't you get to liking him too much," he said. "That bird's the class.
He ain't for any little--"