Carrie assented. "If you can call him that," she said. "He has two or three others working for him, or he'd be across the street now. I'm different from them—freer. I'm not afraid of him, and so he is a little afraid of me."
Mary took the girl's arm.
"They won't let us stop this way on the pavement," she said. "Come in here and have a drink."
They went into the women's room of one of the quieter saloons. Mary, mindful of the doctor's directions, took only carbonated water, but Carrie ordered whiskey.
Mary, with her stomach crying out for the alcohol, and, in that wrenching desire, nearly seizing her companion's liquor, sipped the water.
"I've quit it," she averred. "It don't pay."
"Most of the men make you take it," said Carrie.
"Yes," Mary admitted, "but you can chuck it on the floor if you're fly." She took another sip of the water, and then asked: "Why don't you shake this man if you're not scared of him. You can come with me, you know."
"It wouldn't be good business," Carrie declared. "I need somebody with influence to look after me in case I'm arrested."
Mary was silent for a minute, thinking.