“Yes,” replied Miss Masters, “that’s the way John Boland has it figured out.”
“Say, girlie,” Druce went on, assuming a confidential air, “Old Boland sure must have a lot of confidence in you.”
Again Miss Masters smiled enigmatically. “Yes,” she admitted, “Mr. Boland has reason to know I can take care of myself in nearly every situation.”
“I’m beginning to think you’re as deep as Boland is.”
“Yes?” Miss Masters tantalized him with another of her smiles. “Now,” she went on, “tell me about this. You say you’re going to have the other Welcome girl here. How do you expect to arrange that?”
Druce grinned triumphantly. “That’s dead easy,” he said. “You see I’m married to her.” He had expected to startle Miss Masters with this information, but he was disappointed. She merely arched her brows slightly. “Then you marry them, do you?” “Yes, when I have to. It’s the easiest way.” “Then this girl—Elsie—is living in your—a—a—hotel?”
“No,” replied Druce hesitatingly, “she’s gone away.” Then he added quickly, “but she’ll be back.”
“Gone away? I don’t understand.” “Oh, we had a family row this morning. I told her that if she wanted to get along in Chicago she’d have to discard her Millville morals and be a good fellow. She’s squeamish. I let her understand that she’d have to—”
“I see,” said Miss Masters. “She thought that, because she was your wife she wouldn’t have to drink with the patrons in your cafe. When you told her she’d have to, she got angry and walked out. Is that it?”
“You’re wise,” replied Druce admiringly.