Joe smoothed out his tone. “You’re right, Jewel. You’re certainly entitled to it. Just leave it to me. I’ll brace him as soon as the time is ripe.”
“The time is ripe now,” said Jewel with quiet stubbornness.
“Who’s runnin’ this show?” Joe demanded.
“There’s some things you don’t know,” said Jewel. “You’re only a kid. The time is ripe. The old man is ripe.”
“All right,” said Joe. “I’ll brace him next time I see him.”
“That’s what you said before. You needn’t mind now. I’ll brace him myself to-night.”
Joe sat up suddenly. “Go ahead!” he cried violently. “And the whole show’ll blow up right then! I know that old geezer! If you ask him for money, he’ll fade! He likes to make out it’s all a fairy-story like, when he comes here.”
“Has he already given you the money for me?” Jewel asked unexpectedly.
Joe’s mouth opened and shut. He perceived that he had betrayed himself by showing too much heat. Oh well, he had to have it out with her anyhow. “Yes,” he said coolly, falling back on the divan.
Jewel stood up suddenly. Her sewing fell to the floor. She stood over Joe with clenched hands; a flush in her dark cheeks; her big eyes burning—she was handsome! “You dirty cheat!” she said, not loud. “You rotten kid! Rotten before you’re ripe! You thieving Jew! . . . I might have known how it would be!”