The woman was somewhere in the forties. Her glittering, black eyes had the fidgets. They darted to my face, then away, then back, then made a quick survey of thehallway, and came back to me again.
“Know where I might find her?”
“Do you know her when you see her?”
“No. I’m investigating her nineteen-thirty-nine income tax.”
“Can you fancy that—” She half turned and called over her shoulder, “Paw, did you hear that? That woman pays an income tax!”
A man’s voice from the inside of the apartment said, “Uh huh.”
The woman moistened her lips, took a deep breath. “Well, Lord knows as how I’m not the one to pry into a neighbor’s business. Live and let live, that’s my motto. Personally, I don’t care what she does as long as she’s quiet about it. I was telling my husband just the other day. The Lord knows what the world is coming to when a girl like this Framley girl can turn night into day, have men friends calling at her apartment, and stay until all hours of the night. Heaven knows what she does! She certainly doesn’t work, and she’s never up before eleven or twelve in the morning. And I don’t think there’s a night in her life she goes to bed before two o’clock. Of course, you understand I’m not saying anything against the girl, and heaven knows she’s decent-appearing enough, perfectly quiet, and all that. But—”
“Where can I find her?”
“Well, mind you, I’m not one to say anything. Personally I can’t afford to play those slot machines. They tell me they’re so arranged that it’s just like throwing money away. Yet three afternoons now when I’ve walked past the place, I’ve looked in and seen that girl standing in front of the slot machines at the Cactus Patch, dropping one coin after another, working the handles just as fast as she could pump her hand up and down.
“She hasn’t a job, and I don’t know as she’s ever had a job. But for a girl to live a life like that — such a nice, decent-appearing girl, too — and then you tell me she pays an income tax! Well, Ah-h-h-h-l declare! How-much-did-she-pay?”