“Promise?”
“Yes.”
“Then go ahead.”
He revolved matters in his blunt mind, and recommenced: “You remember, I told you ’bout the—the little furnished flat my manager, Nolan, asked me to move in?”
“Yes?”
“Well, why couldn’t we—just you an’ me—”
“Jimmy!”
“I know, but I can’t help it, Erna. Things is different now. When I asked you that time—well, that’s all over now. You an’ I’s forgotten that. So what’s buried’s buried. An’ times is different now. You’ve got a job, though it’s a punk one. I’ve got a little money an’ more to come, an’ I’ve cut drinkin’. My health’s fine an’ prospects great. After I finish ‘the Kid’ there’ll be Young Walcott—an’ after Walcott, a bunch o’ others—”
“But Jimmy—”
“Don’t butt in!” he begged seriously. “Now, I know you hate that job o’ yours—”