Duffy nodded. “I’m a heel all right,” he said. “I told Alice I was seeing you on the train for your home.”
Olga said, “You couldn’t let them in on this?”
Duffy shook his head. “They’ve got each other. They don’t give a damn for money; why should they? It’s punks like you and me that ain’t got anchors that think money’s the tops.”
She shot a quick glance at him. “You’re not feeling sore?” she ventured.
Duffy shook his head again. “No, not sore. I’ve started this, so I’m finishing it. If I don’t get away with it, it don’t matter. If I do, well, I’ll spend what I get, and think I’m having a swell time.”
She said in a low voice, “And me?”
Duffy put his hand on her knee. “You’re okay, baby, you’ll get what you want.”
He pulled up outside his apartment. “Come on in and see how you like your new home.”
They went upstairs, and she stood waiting for him to open the door. Inside the small apartment they stood and looked at each other, then she turned her head quickly and walked over to the window. “I like this,” she said. “It’s nice, isn’t it?”
Duffy threw his hat on the chair and brought out a bottle of rum. “You like Bacardi?” he said.