"She won't do, that's all."
"Why won't she?" Ethel's colour was suddenly high and her brown eyes had a dangerous gleam. Joe looked at her, hesitating.
"Yes," he said, "you're the kind of a girl who has to be told the truth now and then. She's the mistress of one of our big millionaires."
Ethel stared at him blankly.
"I don't believe it!" she cried. "Her taste! The way she dresses!
Her—her voice—the things she says!"
"I know, I know," he answered. "That sort is rare and they come high.
I've talked to her—"
"Oh, you have, have you! Then why shouldn't I?"
"Because, my dear, I'm one of the owners of this building. My talks were brief—just business."
"What business had you letting her in?"
"Because times were bad three years ago and tenants weren't so easy to find. What harm has she done? This isn't a social club, you know—"