She's the only one I've ever given a reduced rate
to--and I swore I never would to anybody!... Do
you--uh--drink--drink much, I mean?"
Nelly on this floor! Near him! Now! He had to have this room.
He forced himself to speak directly.
"I know how you mean, Mrs. Ferrard. No, I don't drink much of
any--hardly at all; just a glass of beer now and then; sometimes
I don't even touch that a week at a time. And I don't gamble
and--and I do try to keep--er--straight--and all that sort of thing."
"That's good."
"I work for the Souvenir and Art Novelty Company on
Twenty-eighth Street. If you want to call them up I guess the
manager'll give me a pretty good recommend."
"I don't believe I'll need it, Mr. Wrenn. It's my business to
find out what sort of animiles men are by just talking to them."
She rose, smiled, plumped out her hand. "You _will_ be nice to
Nelly, _won't_ you! I'm going to fire that Teddem out--don't tell
him, but I am--because he gets too fresh with her."
"Yes!"
She suddenly broke into laughter, and ejaculated: "_Say_, that
was hard work! Don't you _hate_ to have to be serious? Let's trot
down, and I'll make Tom or Duncan rush us a growler of beer to
welcome you to our midst.
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