"Yes."
Young Meyer leered again.
"Come round when you're sick of it," he invited. "Tell Amy, too. You're both good cloak-makers."
She turned from his satyr-face, vaguely disquieted. His whole manner was an evil innuendo. The girl with the freckles, who had called the place a sweat-shop, went down with her in the freight-elevator and walked beside her for a block, when they gained the street.
"I heard Jake chewin' the rag up there," she said. "Why didn't you cuff his ears? Anybody'd know to look at you that no buyer got you your position."
"What are you talking about?"
"You didn't catch on to what he was hintin'?"
"No."
The girl gave an incredulous exclamation.
"And maybe you don't know either how Amy Jeffries got her place?" she added.