"What's the matter? You ain't sore at the joke, are you, Miss Harkins?"
"No," replied Lilly; she spoke through a mental and physical nausea—a reaction which laid violent hold of and sickened her. Lulu loomed to her like a grotesque figure. The imprint of Mr. Sippy's farewell hand-shake was still moist in her own hand.
"What time is it, Loo?"
"Well, what do you know about that? It's ten after one! Gee! don't I wish to-morrow was Sunday? You gotta climb out early with me if you're goin' to that job."
"One o'clock!" Lilly's voice caught in terror. "One o'clock! I can't beat Charley home no more now."
"Whatta you mean? Ain't you goin' to stay here with me? You ain't quittin' now, are you—after all the trouble I went to to interdooce you to my gentlemen friends?"
Lilly nodded.
"You been awfully good, Loo; but I ain't got the nerve. I gotta go back to Charley."
Lulu jerked to a sitting posture, her feet dangling over the edge of the bed.
"Well, ain't this a fine come-off! What'll my friends think of me? I always say you never get no thanks for tryin' to help other people; that's what I get for tryin' to do the right thing by you."