Alice got off the arm of his chair and walked over to the fireplace. She stood looking down at Duffy, her big eyes were sad. “You men are all alike,” she said; there was a faint undertone of bitterness in her voice. “All tough guys, who come home hurt!”
Duffy looked over at Sam. “Suppose we forget that for a moment,” he said; “tell me what you found out about Annabel English.”
Sam began to fill a pipe. “That dame’s going to get herself into trouble one of these days,” he said, fumbling around for some matches. Alice took a box off the mantelshelf and gave them to him. “One of these days, she going to be stuck for a sucker, and then she’ll be landed in the cooler.”
Duffy said, “I want facts, not an extract from True.”
“Well, in brief, she’s Edwin English’s daughter. I supposed you guessed that?”
Duffy looked startled. “No,” he said seriously, “I should have thought of that, but I didn’t.”
“Do you mean Edwin English, the politician?” Alice asked.
Sam nodded shortly. “Yeah,” he said, “Annabel’s the wild one of the family. English stands for anti-vice, you know all about his racket. Annabel’s his big thorn. I guess she about crucifies the old man. About three years ago they agreed to part. He set her up in a swell apartment, and gave her a big allowance, on condition that she behaved herself, and didn’t give him any cause for getting in bad with his voters.”
Duffy said, “I’d just hate to be an anti-vice candidate with a daughter like that.”
Sam nodded. “You bet,” he said, “this little dame’s a nympho-something or other, I forget the word. You know, she’s hot for anything in pants.”