Nan blinked quickly. These two men seemed to be measuring her to see if she came up to the standard of Harmony Singer.
“Well, I—I hope I can make good,” she said. But she looked at Len Ayres, and his greenish-gray eyes seemed to accuse her of a lie.
“You’ll make good,” he said softly. “After all, all yuh need to do is to be honest and play the game on the square.”
“Be honest and play the game on the square,” she repeated to herself as she sat in her room a few minutes later. Did he suspect that she wasn’t on the square, she wondered?
She could hear the men talking in the kitchen, and she opened her door just a few inches.
“By God, I never shook her hand!” said Sailor. “I never did kowtow to no woman. I may work for her, but I’ll not shake her hand, Whisperin’. You acted like a plumb fool over her. Yeah, yuh did! Didn’t I hear yuh say that her eyes looked like the ones Harmony had? I shore did. Makin’ a fuss over her eyes!”
“Well, she’s nice, ain’t she?” asked Whispering mildly.
“Nice? Oh, I s’pose she’s nice. Huh! I seen Len makin’ eyes at her, too. I sh’d think he’d had enough of wimmin. Last one married ag’in almost before the gate closed behind him. Well, it’s his business, I reckon. I know I don’t want her.”
“By golly, that ort to relieve her, Sailor. I’ll betcha she’s tremblin’ in her room, waitin’ for somebody to tell her that you don’t want her. Say, git me some wood. I’m minglin’ a reg’lar feed for this evenin’.”
“Panderin’ to her stummick?”