“Ever been married?” I asked.
“I don’t think so.”
“Was she going steady?”
“Hell, I don’t know!” she said, suddenly bringing her eyes to focus on mine. “You talk like a damn dick. How the hell should I know about her? I got troubles of my own.”
I said, “You forget that I fell for her pretty hard.”
She studied me and said, “You shouldn’t have done it. You’re too nice a kid to fall for any B girl. Not that we ain’t just as good as anybody else, but we have to play our men for what we can get out of them. But hell, you’re married and stepping out on your wife, so I guess it’s six of one and half a dozen of the other.
“That’s a funny thing about people. You’ve got a home, and you want to step out and sit around where there’s music and drinking and entertainment. I have to work in this joint, and I’d give my right arm for a home, a husband, and a lot of housework.”
“Why not get the husband?” I asked. “It shouldn’t be hard — for you.”
She laughed bitterly and said, “Me with a five-year-old daughter. Don’t kid yourself, Mister.”
“Five years old,” I said, putting surprise in my voice.