“Then why not stay here?”
“There's only this about it,” he replied, leaning against the bar, and speaking in an off-hand manner; “Stenzenberger offers me the chance to do both. I could be in here every few days—see you most as much as I do now in a busy season—and make the extra pay clear.”
“Oh, that's why you have been thinking you might do it?”
“Well, that's the only thing about it that—” He was wondering what was in her other hand. “You see, I can't afford to get the Cap'n down on me.”
“You can't? I should think he would be the one that couldn't afford—”
“Now see here, Madge.” He stepped up to her, and would have slipped his arm around her waist, but she eluded him. “I guess I 'll go over and see what he has to offer, and then I 'll come back, and you and me can talk it all over and see if we think—”
“If we think!” she burst out. “Do you take me for a fool, Joe McGlory? Do you think for a minute I don't know why you want to go—and why you mean to go? Look at that!” She produced a photograph of a pretty, foolish young woman, and read aloud the inscription on the back, “To Joe, from Estelle.”
An ugly look came into his eye. “I wouldn't get excited about that kiddishness if I was you.”
“So you call it kiddishness, do you, and at your age?”
“Well, so long now, Madge. I 'll be back in a few minutes.”