The man laughed at this jibe at their profession, and the hostess turned to another table.
Champagne was sold at fifteen dollars a bottle, and Roper spent his money lavishly, in the effort to impress Blanche. When the second bottle came she drank sparingly—you grew too darn careless if you drank too much, and then you frankly “bawled out” the fellow with you, or let him take too many liberties. Sometimes the matter passed out of your control and you became merrily hazy about everything, but you had to fight against such an ending. Roper drank freely and passed into an inebriated condition that was sullen and hilarious at different times. This girl would have to be good to him to-night—he had played around with her long enough—but he would have to laugh it off for a few hours, until his chance came.
As they rode away in a cab, he kissed her, and she made no remonstrances. It was all part of the system—a kiss or two at the start of the evening, and allowing the man to hug you a little too closely sometimes, while you were dancing, and then some more kisses during the ride home, with a few “Don’t, please don’ts” thrown in to provide the proper touch of objection. Then Roper became more daringly insistent, and she spoke indignantly over an inner sigh. Here it was again, the old finale.
“You musn’t do that to me,” she said. “I don’t like you well enough for that, Fred. I mean it. I’m not a bad sport, and I’m willing to go so far, but I won’t give in to a fellow ’less I really care for him. That’s the way I’m made.”
Roper’s drunkenness gave him an irresistible anger—if this girl thought he was a “sucker” he’d soon correct her.
“You’re gonna come across with me,” he said. “I’m jes’ as good’s any other fellow, ’n’ I’ve been treatin’ you white, an’ you know it. What’s the idea, stringin’ me along like this?”
“’F you can’t talk decent to me I’ll leave the cab,” she replied, really aggravated this time. “I never promised you anything, and ’f you wanted to take me out, that was up to you.”
For a moment, caution contended against Roper’s drunkenness.
“Aw, can’t you be nice to me?” he asked, trying to resume his overtures. “You know I’m crazy ’bout you, you know that.”
“I can’t be like you want me to,” she answered, as she pushed him away.