“Aah, fergit it!” she said, perfectly good-tempered. “What do you look at me like that for?”
Wilfred, abashed, schooled his eyes, and started slowly to undress. He had no feeling of shame; but only of strangeness.
His companion chattered away. She was rather a likeable sort. “It’s the drink that does for girls. So I keep away from it. The rest don’t do you no harm, if you take care of yourself. You kin depend upon me, fella. My name’s Angela. I ain’t been at this long. I started it so’s I could help me mutter out, and keep me young sister in school. She’s smart. We’re gonna send her to college. You’re a nice lookin’ fella. Is this the first time?”
“No,” said Wilfred quickly.
“Bet it is, though I kin tell. None of them wants to admit it. Well, you might do worse than begin wit’ me. You look somepin like my fella. He’s blond, too. But he’s got twenty pounds on you.”
Wilfred had heard that these girls always had a lover. That seemed strange to him.
“He’s a deckhand on the steamboat Albertina. . . .”
I share with a deckhand! thought Wilfred.
“He gimme this ruby ring I wear. If you come to see me at my place I’ll show you his pitcher. Me and him’s gonna git married when I kin save enough to furnish wit’.”
Good God! thought Wilfred again. “Does he know?” he asked.