Obediently, all of them except Fan got up and murmured respectful good nights and went out of the door.
Fan continued to sprawl in the chair.
Carrie eyed her with reluctant admiration. She had never been able to tame Fan entirely. She was wise enough to realize that Fan with a broken spirit would be a poor proposition, and she took more from her than any of the other girls put together.
She knew that Fan liked the racket. She knew also that Fan would never have admitted it, but Carrie had long ago come to realize that Fan was physically built for the game.
Carrie said, “You smoke too much. It ain’t going to help you when you get older.”
Fan looked at her. “Listen, nigger, I like smokin’. To hell with that stuff about getting old.”
“You’ll see. I’m tellin’ you when you start slippin’ I’ll turn you out. Make no mistake, sister, I’ve got no time for worn−outs.”
Fan got up and gathered her wrap around her. “I’ll be gone long before that time,” she said. “One of these days I’m goin’ to start out on my own.”
Carrie had heard all this before. She knew Fan was too lazy to hunt up her own clients. “Sure,” she said“one of these days.”
Fan stubbed her cigarette out and then crossed to the big mirror on the wall. She stood looking at herself carefully.