"Her picture is there," said Doris. "She isn't pretty."
"Isn't she?" yawned Athalie.
Catharine jerked open another drawer: "It's always a man's doing. You bet they'll find that some fellow had her on a string. What idiots girls are!"
"I should worry," remarked Doris. "Any fresh young man who tries to get me jingled will wish he hadn't."
"Don't talk that way," remonstrated Athalie.
"What way?"
"That slangy way you think is smart. What's the use of letting down when you know better."
"What's the use of keeping up on fifteen per? I could do the Gladys to any Percy on fifty. My talk suits my wages—and it suits me, too.... God!—I suppose it's fried ham again to-night," she added, jumping up and walking into the kitchenette. And, pausing to look back at her sisters: "If any Johnny asks me to-night I'll go!—I'm that hungry for real food."
"Don't be a fool," snapped Catharine.
Athalie glanced at the alarm clock, passed her hands wearily across her eyes, and rose: "It's after six, Doris. You haven't time for anything very much." And she went into the kitchenette.