"Good night."
"Say, I'm ready to turn in now, are you, Pearl?"
"Yeah—let's have another little drink before we go to bed."
"That's my idea, too—a drink—and a big one," said Evelyn.
"Listen, Ev—when I made up my mind to come down here, I only had one thought in mind, and that was to stay a little while and make some money, and get away while I could—you know what I mean, to get—well, to get away before it got me—do you know what I mean?"
"Sure, Kid, I know what you mean, only you're too damn nice to say it for fear of hurting my feelings. You mean to get away before you get like me—and Mickey—and that gang you were with tonight."
"Well, I don't quite mean it like that—I mean—"
"Listen, honey, I know just how you feel—I only hope you can do what you want to. When I came down here, I had the same idea, but I let this damn place get me. Now I couldn't leave it, no matter how hard I tried. I guess the only way I'll ever leave it is in a box."
"I don't quite know what to do. I'm kind of puzzled since tonight—the party, the shooting, and all. Maybe I've had a little too much to drink—or not enough—I—I—well, I ought never, never think, nobody should ever think, especially about the past—Oh, well, let's have another drink."
"Well, if you could be bothered with Big Boy, you could feather your nest for good—honey, that means an awful lot these days—not having to worry about the rent, not having to put up with men that you hate the sight of, especially when you have to be nice, to make the lousy two dollars that they hand out grudgingly, and think that they are doing you a good turn—but, of course, if you can't go him—well, what's the use to try?"