Doolin rolled up the paper and threw it on a chair. He said: “Five hundred a week — an’ expenses! Gee! — is that swell!” He was grinning broadly.
The girl said: “I’m awfully glad about the money, darling — if you’re sure you’ll be safe. God knows it’s about time we had a break.” She hesitated a moment. “I hope it’s all right...”
She was twenty-three or — four, a honey-blonde pink-cheeked girl with wide gray eyes, a slender well-curved figure.
Doolin went to her and kissed the back of her neck. “Sure, it’s all right, Mollie,” he said. “Anything is all right when you get paid enough for it. The point is to make it last — five hundred is a lot of money, but a thousand will buy twice as many lamb chops.”
She became very interested in a tiny speck on one of the cheap white plates, rubbed it industriously with a towel. She spoke without looking up: “I keep thinking about that Darmond girl — in jail. What do you suppose Halloran has against her?”
“I don’t know.” Doolin sat down at the table. “Anyway — she’s okay. We can spring her any time, only we can’t do it now because we’d have to let the Law in on the Martinelli angle an’ they’d pick him up — an’ Halloran couldn’t have his fun.”
“It’s a funny kind of fun.” The girl smiled with her mouth.
Doolin said: “He’s a funny guy. Used to be a police reporter in Chi — maybe that has something to do with it. Anyway, the poor bastard’s only got a little while to go — let him have any kind of fun he wants. He can afford it...”
They were silent while the girl cut bread and got the butter out of the Frigidaire and finished setting the table.
Doolin was leaning forward with his elbows on the table, his chin in his hands. “As far as the Darmond gal is concerned, a little of that beef stew they dish up at the County will be good for her. These broads need a little of that — to give them perspective.”