“You don’t,” Bertha said.
“Well — all right. It’s the Maplehurst out on Grand Avenue. Miss Jackson is really a very nice girl. She told me several times she thought the rule was unreasonable, but that she certainly didn’t hold anything against me. Josephine Dell, however, was different. She was angry at me personally. She left in a huff and wouldn’t even come in to see me. I got that much out of Myrna Jackson. Made her admit it. It’s all right, as far as I’m concerned. Some day that Dell woman will want to get in another apartment, and when they ring up and ask me what kind of tenant she is, I’ll tell them.”
“Anything wrong with her?” Bertha asked.
“That business of crabbing over rules is enough, but there are other things I could say. Not that I want to say anything against her character, but then—”
“What?” Bertha asked.
The manager sniffed. “She worked for a much older man than she. A man who walked with a slight limp and used a cane?”
“I believe so, yes.”
“Humph, I thought so.”
“Why? Anything wrong?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t say anything was wrong, but he came to call on her two or three times, and — well, I’m not saying anything at all, but after all I’ve done for that girl, she certainly has no business getting sore at me because I live up to the rules of the place. Anyhow, that isn’t what we were talking about. You go to the Maplehurst Apartments, and you’ll find Myrna Jackson — but don’t you let on that you got her address from me, because Miss Jackson told me that there was a young man who was pestering her a lot and she didn’t care about him having her address. I told her I’d keep it confidential. She just wanted mail forwarded; said I wasn’t to let anyone at all have the address.”