Pinky raised her hand to her swollen cheek. “Does it look very bad?” she asked.
“Spoils your beauty some.”
“Will it get black?”
“Shouldn't wonder. But what can't be helped, can't. You'll mind your own business next time, and keep out of Sal's way. She's dangerous. What's the matter?”
“Got a sort of chill,” replied the girl, who from nervous reaction was beginning to shiver.
“Oh, want something to warm you up.” Norah brought out a bottle of spirits. Pinky poured a glass nearly half full, added some water, and then drank off the fiery mixture.
“None of your common stuff,” said Norah, with a smile, as Pinky smacked her lips. The girl drew her handkerchief from her pocket, and as she did so a piece of paper dropped on the floor.
“Oh, there it is!” she exclaimed, light flashing into her face. “Going to make a splendid hit. Just look at them rows.”
Norah threw an indifferent glance on the paper.
“They're lucky, every one of them,” said Pinky. “Going to put half a dollar on each row—sure to make a hit.”