Joe scowled. “Aah! She wants me to bring you up there while the old man’s out of town.”
Harry quickly lowered his lids—not so quickly, though, but that Joe perceived what was under them. It was funny! Harry of course, was out of his mind with curiosity concerning the flat on Fifty-Eighth street, and it’s occupant. “Well . . . why not?” said Harry with a shrug.
“Good God! man!” cried Joe. “Suppose the old man got on to it?”
“Why should he get on to it, if the girl is on the level with us?”
“Suppose she was to get stuck on you?” said Joe. “Where would I be?”
Harry fiddled among the papers on his desk. “Oh, you can leave that to me,” he said with a laugh. “I’m not going to let her . . . I might ask you the same question. Where would I be if she did?”
“I don’t see how you could help yourself,” said Joe. “If you attempted to discourage her, it would only make her worse. I tell you frankly, after a certain point I can’t handle her.”
“What did she say?” Harry asked, keeping his face averted from Joe—but Joe marked the deepening dimple.
“Said she was bored, seeing nobody but the old man and me.”
“Well . . . you’re not old,” suggested Harry.