Her voice was silky and flowed from her unpainted lips. Her dark eyes met mine. ‘The name’s Jim, ma’am. Jim Worrell.’ I said. ‘Just passing ...hrough, Jim?’ She said as she leaned on the bar next to me somewhat closer than necessary. I could smell a slight floral odor coming off her. It was sweet like lavender. ‘Yes ma’am. I’m heading to California from St. Louis. Your barkeep put me up in room six for the night. I’ll be leaving at first light.’ ‘You like the show, Jim?’ she asked. ‘It’s a bit. Even though it was clear she was making an invitation, I was completely uncertain of how to proceed, so I took a risk, “Do you think lying is bad?” She looked rather confused, “Well, yes, of course,” “Then you have been bad, haven’t you, because you lied to me. You didn’t come here just to return my book, did you?” She dropped her eyes and murmured, “No, I suppose not.” “Well, what do you think should happen to naughty girls who lie? Shouldn’t they be punished? In fact, they should. More

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