He would peep at her as she passed him on her swift way; she never looked at him.
He seldom saw her speak to the other maids. Yet it was clear to him that this isolation was unnatural to her, and that she was made for quiet intercourse and noble mirth. Unlike the other maids she was always busy. She never romped, gossiped, or flirted.
One evening Ernie saw a fat-necked Jew in a sleeping suit, his mouth stuffed with a cigar, his eyes hot and bibulous, standing in the door of his bedroom.
The dark beauty came by.
The Jew chirped at her.
"Pretty tartie!" he called in his luscious voice. "Come inside then. I've got something to show you."
The girl passed on, unheeding.
The Jew followed her with moist eyes that glistened.
A fair chamber-maid emerging from another room winked at Ernie.
"She's white," she said, and jerked her head in the direction of the disappearing girl.