Little Joe followed him to a corner of the room and sat down.
“Well, what is it?” he asked, taking off his hat and brushing it carefully with his sleeve. “What do you want to see me about?”
Spade rubbed his hand over his fat features and shook his head. He certainly looked as if he was in a lot of trouble. “What’s come over the town, Joe?” he said.
Little Joe stared at him. “What the hell are you talkin’ about?”
Spade fingered his glass. “Where’ve the girls got to?”
Little Joe was non−committal. “What girls?” he asked.
Spade shook his head again. “You know. There ain’t a floosie poundin’ a beat this side of 27th Street. A couple of months ago you couldn’t take a step without fallin’ over them. Well, where’ve they gone?”
Little Joe grinned. “Can’t you find any comfort?”
“It ain’t that,” Spade said. “It’s ruinin’ my business. I’ve gotta find out what’s wrong.”
“What do you meanruinin’ your business?”