"What line? Chorus girl or supe in the legit?"
"I'm going to try to do anything that turns up," Joan affirmed courageously.
"Try anythin' once, eh?" murmured the boy with profound irony. "Well, where you goin' to hang out till you land?"
The lie ran glibly off her tongue this time: "With Maizie Dean—Two-eighty-nine West Forty-fifth."
"That where you stayed last night?"
"Yes ..." she faltered, already beginning to repent and foresee unhappy complications in event Butch should try to find her at the address she had given.
The boy got up suddenly and stood close to her, searching her face with his prematurely knowing eyes.
"Look here, kid!" he said roughly. "Hand it to me straight now: on the level, there ain't no man mixed up in this?"
She was able to meet his gaze without a tremor: "On the dead level, Butch."
"That's all right then. Only...."