“Who?”
“Arthur Whitewell.”
“What did he do?”
“Tried handing me a lot of bull about how attractive I was.”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I didn’t mind it,” she said. “In fact, I suppose I lapped some of it up, while it was just social, but when the damn fool tried to spread it on thick in order to wheedle me into making a low charge for our services, I saw through the old buzzard right away. I guess I’ve been a little foolish, lover. I guess a woman likes to hear those things, and if business hadn’t entered into it, I might never have realized what a hypocrite he was.”
“You got the dough all right?” I asked.
“Did I!” she said with her eyes glittering.
The waitress brought my tomato juice. I drank it, then while I was waiting, fished a couple of nickels out of my pocket and started over for the slot machine.
The woman who ran the place came rushing over to me. “Get away, get away,” she said. “It’s out of order.”