"May I smoke a cigarette here?"
"Sure, go as far as you like. Ten-cent whiskey--or fifteen?"
"Fifteen--unless it's out of the same bottle as the ten."
"Call it ten--seeing as you are a lady. I've got a soft heart
for you ladies. I've got a wife in the business, myself."
When he came in at the door with the drink, a young man
followed him--a good-looking, darkish youth, well dressed in a
ready made suit of the best sort. At second glance Susan saw
that he was at least partly of Jewish blood, enough to elevate
his face above the rather dull type which predominates among
clerks and merchants of the Christian races. He had small,
shifty eyes, an attractive smile, a manner of assurance
bordering on insolence. He dropped into a chair at Susan's
table with a, "You don't mind having a drink on me."
As Susan had no money to spare, she acquiesced. She said to the
bartender, "I want to get a room here--a plain room. How much?"
"Maybe this gent'll help you out," said the bartender with a
grin and a wink. "He's got money to burn--and burns it."
The bartender withdrew. The young man struck a match and held
it for her to light the cigarette she took from her purse.
Then he lit one himself. "Next time try one of mine," said he.
"I get 'em of a fellow that makes for the swellest uptown
houses. But I get 'em ten cents a package instead of forty.
I haven't seen you down here before.
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