She reached out and gathered up her bag. “Good-bye, Harry,” she said; “thank you for everything.”
“Don’t go,” he said quickly. “You can’t leave it like this. For God’s sake, think what you are doing.”
She slid off the stool. “There is really nothing more to be done; it is all settled. I just didn’t want to hurt you. I’m so sorry.”
He said very bitterly: “Then last year doesn’t mean anything? It is just so much dust… nothing.”
She bit her lip, then put her hand on his arm. “You see why I ought to go quickly? We shall be saying cruel things in a moment and we shall be sorry. Good-bye, Harry,” and she went out of the bar quickly, moving lightly and gracefully.
Mandell watched her go regretfully. The conversation had amused him. As she passed through the door, a girl came in and stood looking round the bar. Mandell’s lips tightened. He recognized the type immediately. That was one thing he wouldn’t stand for in his bar. He said to the big man, “You’ll excuse me if I come through the barrier, sir, there’s a dame blown in who looks very doubtful. I’m just goin’ to tell her to beat it.”
The big man looked over his shoulder at the girl. He got off the stool. “Doubtful, did you say?” he said. “Why, you big stiff, she’s a goddam certainty,” and he walked across to the girl who met him with a professional smile and they went away together.
THE PAINTED ANGEL
Slug Moynihan eased his weight against the lamp-post and thrust his hands into his trouser pockets. The hard light from the lamp threw his face into dark shadows, hiding his eyes and lighting his square jaw. He was wearing a light sport’s coat over a white polo sweater, and his shabby flannel trousers were noticeably frayed at the turn-ups.
People who passed, glanced at him curiously, and then, as he turned his head, they looked away hurriedly. Slug was a tough bird and he didn’t like people looking at him. He belonged to a team of third-rate boxers who fought at Henklestien’s saloon twice a week. He made a little money and took a lot of punishment. He was still under twenty-five, so he found that the punishment didn’t affect him. All the same, it sometimes worried him when he watched the older fighters gradually going slug nutty. He could see that happening to him before long.