smile now a little patronizing. ‘My congratulations, Mr. Harrison. You’ve certainly found a wife who can make a very sharp deal.’
Back in the little office and the sale completed, Carter seemed inclined to dally. Holding the receipt between his fingers, he looked at Ginny, unconcealed admiration in his eyes.
‘And where do you plan to go, Mrs. Harrison?’ he asked. ‘Where’s the honeymoon ground going to be?’
‘We’re going up into the mountains,’ Ginny said. ‘My husband is fond of fishing. We’re looking forward to it. It should be a lot of fun.’
Kitson reached forward and took the receipt from Carter’s hand. The way Carter was looking at Ginny was more than he could bear.
‘We’ll have to get going,’ he said. ‘We have a lot to do.’
Carter again gave him the same patronizing smile as he got to his feet.
‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘Well, happy journey to you both. Anytime you want to trade this job in for something better, come and see me.’ He shook hands with Ginny, holding her hand a little longer than necessary.
Kitson, determined not to shake hands with him, pushed his hand deep into his trousers pockets and slouched to the door.
The caravan was now coupled to the Buick and they went down the path with Carter still talking to Ginny.
It inflamed Kitson’s anger at the way Carter handed Ginny into the car, and he could scarcely contain himself as Carter gave him a patronizing pat on his back and wished him luck.
‘This is just what we want,’ Ginny said as they drove away from the Caravan Mart. ‘Morgan will be pleased.’
Kitson said in a low, furious voice, ‘The way that jerk was looking at you. I should have taken a poke at him.’
Ginny turned her head sharply, staring at him, her sea-green eyes suddenly hostile.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I say!’ Kitson said, beside himself. ‘The way he looked at you! The jerk! I should have hit him!’
‘What does it matter to you how any man looks at me?’ she asked, her voice ice cold. ‘You’re not married to me, are you? What are you getting so heated about?’
Kitson’s big hands gripped the wheel, his face flushing.
He maintained a sulky silence all the way back to Gypo’s workshop.
II
I t took little less than two weeks to make the caravan ready for the task for which it was needed.
During those eleven days, Bleck took up quarters with Gypo, bunking with him in his rather sordid shed. He had done this deliberately because he realized he had lost considerable ground with Morgan, and he was anxious to show Morgan he now meant business.
Sharing the same sleeping quarters with Gypo had been a trial. Gypo was an Italian peasant. His personal habits grated on Bleck’s nerves, his sublime indifference to dirt and discomfort was something that Bleck failed to understand.
Each morning, Kitson had come to the workshop around eight o’clock in the morning and had left just after midnight. The three men had slaved on the caravan to get it ready to take the weight of the truck.
It was during this time that both Bleck and Kitson were forced to realize Gypo’s worth as a technical man. Without his skill and his ingenuity, they would have got nowhere. Bleck, who had always despised Gypo, was startled to find him so much superior to himself when it came to a technical job.
It irked him to realize that, without Gypo’s sound craftsmanship, the job they were working on just could not have been done. On the other hand, Kitson, who liked Gypo, was quick to admire the Italian’s ability, and he looked forward to the work each day, feeling that, for the first time in his life, he was learning something useful.
The work was completed on Tuesday night, and on this night, Morgan had called a meeting to be held in Gypo’s workshop. None of them had seen Ginny during these eleven days. She had given Morgan a telephone number at which she could be contacted in the case of a change of plan, but neither he nor
Back in the little office and the sale completed, Carter seemed inclined to dally. Holding the receipt between his fingers, he looked at Ginny, unconcealed admiration in his eyes.
‘And where do you plan to go, Mrs. Harrison?’ he asked. ‘Where’s the honeymoon ground going to be?’
‘We’re going up into the mountains,’ Ginny said. ‘My husband is fond of fishing. We’re looking forward to it. It should be a lot of fun.’
Kitson reached forward and took the receipt from Carter’s hand. The way Carter was looking at Ginny was more than he could bear.
‘We’ll have to get going,’ he said. ‘We have a lot to do.’
Carter again gave him the same patronizing smile as he got to his feet.
‘I can imagine,’ he said. ‘Well, happy journey to you both. Anytime you want to trade this job in for something better, come and see me.’ He shook hands with Ginny, holding her hand a little longer than necessary.
Kitson, determined not to shake hands with him, pushed his hand deep into his trousers pockets and slouched to the door.
The caravan was now coupled to the Buick and they went down the path with Carter still talking to Ginny.
It inflamed Kitson’s anger at the way Carter handed Ginny into the car, and he could scarcely contain himself as Carter gave him a patronizing pat on his back and wished him luck.
‘This is just what we want,’ Ginny said as they drove away from the Caravan Mart. ‘Morgan will be pleased.’
Kitson said in a low, furious voice, ‘The way that jerk was looking at you. I should have taken a poke at him.’
Ginny turned her head sharply, staring at him, her sea-green eyes suddenly hostile.
‘What do you mean?’
‘What I say!’ Kitson said, beside himself. ‘The way he looked at you! The jerk! I should have hit him!’
‘What does it matter to you how any man looks at me?’ she asked, her voice ice cold. ‘You’re not married to me, are you? What are you getting so heated about?’
Kitson’s big hands gripped the wheel, his face flushing.
He maintained a sulky silence all the way back to Gypo’s workshop.
II
I t took little less than two weeks to make the caravan ready for the task for which it was needed.
During those eleven days, Bleck took up quarters with Gypo, bunking with him in his rather sordid shed. He had done this deliberately because he realized he had lost considerable ground with Morgan, and he was anxious to show Morgan he now meant business.
Sharing the same sleeping quarters with Gypo had been a trial. Gypo was an Italian peasant. His personal habits grated on Bleck’s nerves, his sublime indifference to dirt and discomfort was something that Bleck failed to understand.
Each morning, Kitson had come to the workshop around eight o’clock in the morning and had left just after midnight. The three men had slaved on the caravan to get it ready to take the weight of the truck.
It was during this time that both Bleck and Kitson were forced to realize Gypo’s worth as a technical man. Without his skill and his ingenuity, they would have got nowhere. Bleck, who had always despised Gypo, was startled to find him so much superior to himself when it came to a technical job.
It irked him to realize that, without Gypo’s sound craftsmanship, the job they were working on just could not have been done. On the other hand, Kitson, who liked Gypo, was quick to admire the Italian’s ability, and he looked forward to the work each day, feeling that, for the first time in his life, he was learning something useful.
The work was completed on Tuesday night, and on this night, Morgan had called a meeting to be held in Gypo’s workshop. None of them had seen Ginny during these eleven days. She had given Morgan a telephone number at which she could be contacted in the case of a change of plan, but neither he nor
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