"Now, don't fuss at me, Goldie. I'm tired—dog-tired. I got some money comin' in to-morrow that'll—"
"That don't go with me any more!"
"Sure I have."
"I been set out on the street too many times before on promises like that; and it was always after a week of one of these here slow jags. I know them and how they begin. I know them!"
"'Tain't so this time, honey. I been—"
"I know them and how they begin, with your sweet, silky ways. I'd rather have you come staggering home than like this—with your claws hid. I—I'm afraid of you, I tell you. I ain't forgot the night up at Hinkey's. You haven't been out with Cutty no more than I have. You been up to the Crescent, where the Red Slipper is dancing this week, you—"
Mr. Trimp swayed ever so slightly—slightly as a silver reed in the lightest breeze that blows—and regained his balance immediately. His breath, redolent as a garden of spice and cloves, was close to his wife's neck.
"Baby," he said, "you better believe your old man. I been out with Cutty, Goldie. We had a sucker out!"
She sprang back from his touch, hot tears in her eyes.
"Believe you! I did till I learnt better. I believed you for four months, sittin' round waiting for you and your goings-on. You ain't been out with Cutty—you ain't been out with him one night this week. You been—you—"