“I figured that,” she said. “Evaline was a nice kid. It’s a shame. I guess she was two-timing someone who didn’t like it.”
“How did it happen?”
She said, “Someone got in her apartment, slipped a cord around her neck, pulled it tight.”
“That,” I said, “is no way to treat a lady.”
There was feeling in her voice. “Are you telling me? Hell, when you think of what men are, what they take from a girl, and what they do— Oh, well.” She shrugged her shoulders, twisted her red lips into a smile, and said, “This is no way to do. Be happy and keep smiling, or you won’t get any customers.”
I said, “I guess that’s right. You don’t get any business being sorry for yourself.”
“Not in this racket. You have to put up a smiling front. The boys like girls who are drifting through life without a care in the world. Try and tell them you’re in this game trying to support a kid, and she’s at home with a bad cough and a fever, and you’re worried, and you don’t even get a tumble.”
“Got a kid?” I asked.
For a moment her eyes moistened, then she blinked back the tears and said, “For God’s sake, quit it! You’ll make my mascara run... How about another drink? No, wait a minute. Forget it. You slipped me enough so I can afford to give you a break.”
“The waiter’s looking this way,” I said.