"No," said the Governor firmly.
"You'll have to pay just the same," warned the woman.
"Very well." He drew the key from his pocket and handed it to her.
"And take your property with you."
The model walked humbly behind them. "Still cold?" asked Lampley.
"Yes I am. And if you were a gentleman you'd have seen that I got my coat."
He didn't answer. The floorwalker, in a new frockcoat, bowed pleasantly to them and waved them to the elevator. Lampley pressed the button, noting that there was no indicator above, that there never had been indicators over any of the elevator entrances. The thought depressed him.
The doors rolled open. The cage was very large, with wide brown leather benches around three sides, and a padded leather ceiling and walls. The clerk wore a leather jockey cap, and a rawhide vest over his blue jeans. He clasped his hands together over his head as they entered. He closed the doors smartly; the elevator lurched sideways, throwing the girl and model to the benches.
"I hope—" began Lampley.
The clerk nodded. "Excellent, excellent. Where there's hope there's life and where there's life there's despair. A beginning, anyway."