“And now?” I asked.
“Now, I don’t like it.”
“Why?”
“I thought you were strong for me.”
“I am.”
“Phooey!” she said, with a little grimace. Then her eyes came up to mine. “It isn’t because of what I was doing — that slot-machine racket — that you cooled off toward me?”
“I didn’t cool off toward you. I like you.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She was silent for a few seconds, then she said, “Anyhow, being with Pug and working that machine racket, and having batted around on my own has made me feel that I’m on one side of the fence and the cops are on the other. There’s no particular reason I should feel that way except I’ve had a lot of shakedowns in my time, and particularly on the slot-machine racket. Once or twice, Pug would get caught. The slot-machine man would pretend he was going to make a complaint and prosecute. We always knew it was a bluff, but the cops would hold us on their own and shake us down for everything they could get before they’d turn us loose. Well, I got to looking at cops as being — well, just cops.”
I didn’t say anything.