“I suppose she’s O.K. I don’t see her so much any more.”
“That’s just as well. I don’t like to talk much about the other girls, you know I don’t, but that Olga is just plain loose. I’m not saying the rest of us are any the better, I mean I know I’m not such a pure ... well, you know, but after all I don’t take on more than one....”
“For Christ’s sake!” Bervick snapped at her. He was disgusted by this corrupt mass of a woman saying such a thing of Olga. “That’s hard to believe,” he added more calmly.
“What? That I don’t go with more than one? Why you know perfectly well I don’t. My only fault is that I’m just too affectionate.” She purred this last, and under the table her knee was pushed against his.
“I guess that’s right.” You couldn’t be angry with Angela, he thought. He wondered if Olga would be waiting for him.
“Then of course you know about her ... Olga, I mean ... two-timing that Frenchman off your boat. What’s his name?”
“I know about that. That’s old.” Bervick spoke with authority, and Angela was impressed as he intended her to be.
“Well, maybe she’s through with him.” She sighed and her great breasts rippled. Bervick wondered if Olga might marry him if he asked her. That would certainly cut the Chief out, he thought viciously. He frowned.
“What’s the matter, darling?” asked Angela, leaning over the table, her face close to his. Cheap perfume floated up from her in heavy waves; it made him want to cough.
“Not a thing, Angela, not a thing.” He moved back in his chair.