"Search me.Not many that he'd speak to himself.Jim's his wardman--does his collecting for him.Freddie's above most of the men in this business.The others are about like Jim--tough straight through, but Freddie's a kind of a pullman.The other men-even Jim--hate him for being such a snare and being able to hide it that he's in such a low business.They'd have done him up long ago, if they could.But he's to wise for them.That's why they have to do what he says.I tell you, you're in right, for sure.You'll have Freddie eating out of your hand, if you play a cool hand."Susan ordered another drink and a package of Egyptian cigarettes."They don't allow ladies to smoke in here," said Maud."We'll go to the washroom."And in the washroom they took a few hasty puffs before sallying forth again.Usually Sunday night was dull, all the men having spent their spare money the night before, and it being a bad night for married men to make excuses for getting away from home.Maud explained that, except "out-of-towners," the married men were the chief support of their profession--"and most of the cornhuskers are married men, too." But Susan had the novice's luck.When she and Maud met Maud's "little gentleman friend" Harry Tucker at midnight and went to Considine's for supper, Susan had taken in "presents" and commissions twenty-nine dollars and a half.Maud had not done so badly, herself; her net receipts were twenty-two fifty.
She would not let Susan pay any part of the supper bill, but gave Harry the necessary money."Here's a five," said she, pressing the bill into his hand, "and keep the change."And she looked at him with loving eyes of longing.He was a pretty, common-looking fellow, a mere boy, who clerked in a haberdashery in the neighborhood.As he got only six dollars a week and had to give five to his mother who sewed, he could not afford to spend money on Maud, and she neither expected nor wished it.When she picked him up, he like most of his fellow-clerks had no decent clothing but the suit he had to have to "make a front" at the store.Maud had outfitted him from the skin with the cheap but showy stuff exhibited for just such purposes in the Broadway windows.She explained confidentially to Susan:
"It makes me sort of feel that I own him.Then, too, in love there oughtn't to be any money.If he paid, I'd be as cold to him as I am to the rest.The only reason I like Jim at all is I like a good beating once in a while.It's exciting.Jim--he treats me like the dirt under his feet.And that's what we are--dirt under the men's feet.Every woman knows it, when it comes to a showdown between her and a man.As my pop used to say, the world was made for men, not for women.Still, our graft ain't so bum, at that--if we work it right."Freddie called on Susan about noon the next day.She was still in bed.He was dressed in the extreme of fashion, was wearing a chinchilla-lined coat.He looked the idle, sportively inclined son of some rich man in the Fifth Avenue district.He was having an affair with a much admired young actress--was engaged in it rather as a matter of vanity and for the fashionable half-world associations into which it introduced him rather than from any present interest in the lady.He stood watching Susan with a peculiar expression--one he might perhaps have found it hard to define himself.He bent over her and carelessly brushed her ear with his lips."How did your royal highness make out?" inquired he.
"The money's in the top bureau drawer," replied she, the covers up to her eyes and her eyes closed.
He went to the bureau, opened the drawer, with his gloved hands counted the money.As he counted his eyes had a look in them that was strangely like jealous rage.He kept his back toward her for some time after he had crossed to look at the money.
When he spoke it was to say:
"Not bad.And when you get dressed up a bit and lose your stage fright, you'll do a smashing business.I'll not take my share of this.I had a good run with the cards last night.
Anyhow, you've got to pay your rent and buy some clothes.I've got to invest something in my new property.It's badly run down.You'll get busy again tonight, of course.Never lay off, lady, unless the weather's bad.You'll find you won't average more than twenty good business days a month in summer and fall, and only about ten in winter and spring, when it's cold and often lots of bad weather in the afternoons and evenings.That means hustle."No sign from Susan.He sat on the bed and pulled the covers away from her face."What are you so grouchy about, pet?" he inquired, chucking her under the chin.
"Nothing."
"Too much booze, I'll bet.Well, sleep your grouch off.I've got a date with Finnegan.The election's coming on, and I have to work--lining up the vote and getting the repeaters ready.
It all means good money for me.Look out about the booze, lady.It'll float you into trouble--trouble with me, I mean."And he patted her bare shoulders, laughed gently, went to the door.
He paused there, struggled with an impulse to turn--departed.
