“I—I am afraid.”
“But think what a beautiful world this is. There is London and Paris and Rome.”
“London and Paris and Rome mean nothing to me. I wouldn’t know how to behave in those places. All I’ve known is Harrison Street, and the back rooms of saloons, and getting beat up.”
“But your dad was a high-roller.”
“He wasn’t always. Sometimes he was broke. Sometimes we didn’t know where we were going to get things to eat.”
Fay’s voice grew tender.
“Emily,” he said, “that’s all a bad dream. Yesterday afternoon I made a get-away. A man who was dying—a mark for the prison screws—told me to go and save his daughter. I don’t want you to think I forgot that request. I could never forget it. Charley was a pal o’ mine. I came right to you. I see the lay-out. You’re cowed, beaten, crushed, by the Dropper. I’ll croak him when you ask me to.”
“You can’t! I want you to go away. Please don’t suggest anything like that. I like you, but I can never run away with you. I’m afraid.”
“Good God, do you want me to leave you in this joint?”
“It’s the only life I’ve ever known.”