She gave an embarrassed, stammering laugh. “Well—you—you’re right. That’s what she did say—and she’d have her manager give me a job if I wanted it. So I went with them—twenty-five a week. It was a lot more than I was getting at the store. And when she closed, they took me on at the Summer Garden.”
“And you still go round with the Brooklyn crowd?”
Some note in his voice put her on the defensive.
“They’re my old friends—why shouldn’t I?”
He stared at her again. “Queer!” he remarked to himself.
They dashed up a hill.
“I guess we’d better be going back,” she sighed regretfully.
“What’s the matter? Don’t you like this?”
“It—it’s wonderful!” Luxuriously she nestled down, eyes half closing again.
“Then have a heart! I’ve been jitneying you from the theater for two solid weeks! Be a little sympathetic, won’t you?”