George looked at her steadily. “You mean clothes?”
“Of course, I mean clothes. I want something to wear when I go out tomorrow morning. I want a complete outfit. And don’t think I can’t get it. I’ve only to ask Little Ernie.”
“I’ll get you the money,” George said slowly.
“I don’t want the money, I want the clothes. I want something decent to put on when I get up tomorrow morning.
George hesitated. She had purposely asked for the impossible. There were no shops open at this time, but, of course, Little Ernie could get an outfit from one of his girls. It would be the simplest thing in the world for him to do. But George had no girl to borrow anything from. She had laid the trap and he had walked into it.
Cora, studying his face, saw doubt and dismay there, and she got up with a laugh.
“Now shut up, you bluffer,” she said. “I’ve had quite enough from you for one night. I’m going to bed.” She went to the door, and looked back over her shoulder. “I don’t think you and I have much in common, do you, George?” she went on. “I think you’d better go back to your cat and your hook selling.”
George sat brooding for some little time after she had gone. She was slipping through his fingers. He had to do something. Tomorrow would be too late. She had asked for a complete outfit of clothes: well, she must have it.
He got to his feet, picked up his hat and stood staring down at the thick white carpet. Getting an outfit of women’s clothes at eleven-thirty at night might set even Frank Kelly hack on his heels. He must prove to himself that he was a better man even than Frank Kelly. He crossed the room and quietly let himself out of the hateful little flat.