“I tell you there isn’t anything to get a cut from — not as yet.”
“All right, perhaps things will look up later.”
“Look here,” Bertha asked, “where can I get in touch with you?”
He said, grinning, “You can’t,” and sauntered out of the office.
Bertha glowered at the door as it closed behind him. “Damn him,” she said. “I’d like to slap him right across the mouth.”
“Why don’t you?” Elsie Brand asked curiously.
“I’ve probably got to play ball with him,” Bertha said. “You mean, accept his proposition?”
“Eventually — if I can’t get a better one.”
“Why?” Elsie Brand asked curiously. “Why do you get mixed up with people of that stripe, particularly when you don’t like them?”
“Because there’s money in it,” Bertha said, and strode across the office to closet herself with the morning newspaper in her private office.