“All you buyers. You think because we girls have to go out to dinner with you or lose our jobs that you’re privileged to say what you please. Well, forget it. I thought you were different from the others, but I see I was mistaken.”
Platt struck his fingers on the table with a gesture of sudden, illuminating satisfaction.
“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, almost hilariously—“the Nicholson place, over on the north side. There’s a big grove of live oaks and a natural lake. The old house can be pulled down and the new one set further back.”
“Put out your pipe,” said Miss Asher. “I’m sorry to wake you up, but you fellows might as well get wise, once for all, to where you stand. I’m supposed to go to dinner with you and help jolly you along so you’ll trade with old Zizzy, but don’t expect to find me in any of the suits you buy.”
“Do you mean to tell me,” said Platt, “that you go out this way with customers, and they all—they all talk to you like I have?”
“They all make plays,” said Miss Asher. “But I must say that you’ve got ’em beat in one respect. They generally talk diamonds, while you’ve actually dug one up.”
“How long have you been working, Helen?”
“Got my name pat, haven’t you? I’ve been supporting myself for eight years. I was a cash girl and a wrapper and then a shop girl until I was grown, and then I got to be a suit model. Mr. Texas Man, don’t you think a little wine would make this dinner a little less dry?”
“You’re not going to drink wine any more, dear. It’s awful to think how— I’ll come to the store to-morrow and get you. I want you to pick out an automobile before we leave. That’s all we need to buy here.”
“Oh, cut that out. If you knew how sick I am of hearing such talk.”