He let her drop back to the bed, went to the window, stood looking out moodily. After a while he said without turning:
"My mother kept a book shop—on the lower East Side. She brought me up at home. At home!" And he laughed sardonically. "She hated me because I looked like my father."
Silence, then he spoke again:
"You've never been to my flat. I've got a swell place. I want
to cut out this part of the game. I can get along without it.
You're going to move in with me, and stop this street business.
I make good money. You can have everything you want."
"I prefer to keep on as I am."
"What's the difference? Aren't you mine whenever I want you?"
"I prefer to be free."
"Free! Why, you're not free. Can't I send you to the Island any time I feel like it—just as I can the other girls?"
"Yes—you can do that. But I'm free, all the same."
"No more than the other girls."