'What are you following me about for?' she snarled. 'If you're a grote it's no go. You won't teach the copper anything he doesn't know.'
'Oh, I'm not following you,' said Victoria. 'Only I saw you about and thought I'd like to talk to you.'
The girl shot a dark glance at her.
'What's your game?' she asked. 'You're not one of those blasted sisters. Too toffish. Seen you come out of the Vez', besides.'
'I'm in the profession,' said Victoria coolly. 'But that doesn't mean I've got to be against the others.'
'Doesn't it!' The girl's eyes glowed. 'You don't know your job. Of course you've got to be against the others. We were born like that. Or got like that. What's it matter?'
'Matter? oh, a lot,' said Victoria. 'We want friends, all of us.'
'Friends. Oh, Lord! The likes of you and me don't have friends. Women, they won't know us . . . too good. Except our sort. We can't talk; we got nothing to talk of, except money and the boys. And the boys, what's the good of them? There's the sort you pick up and all you've got to do's to get what you can out of them. Haven't fallen in love with one, have you?' The girl's voice broke a little, then she went on. 'Then, there's the other sort, like my Hugo, p'raps you've heard of him?'
'No,' she said, 'I haven't. What is he like?'
'Bless you, he's a beauty.' The girl smiled; her face was full of pride.