"Don't treat me like I was a kid! When I was in the gloves I didn't think nothin' of goin' to Coney every other night, and you know it, all right."
The red surged back into his face.
"Yes, you had a swell time shooting gloves! You used to tell me yourself you was ready to drop at night."
"Ain't I ready to drop here?" she flashed back at him. "Am I any better off here doin' my work in the hottest flat on Third Avenue?"
"Things'll come out all right, honey. Come on and kiss me before I go."
She submitted to his embrace passively enough, and at his request retied his necktie round a fresh collar for him.
"Good night, pussy! I'll come in soft so as not to wake you—there ain't goin' to be no more of this two-o'clock business. I'm goin' to cut out the café. Put a glass of milk out fer me, honey. I'm near dead when I get in."
He struggled into his coat before the little dressing-table mirror of their bedroom and with a sly smile slipped the blue-corded box into a top drawer.
"I got a surprise fer you, Lil—only you ain't in no mood fer it right now."
"I ain't in no humor for nothin'," she said.