The stockings on her legs were not her
own, but were of pink cotton, silk finished. A pair of pink
satin slippers stood on the floor beside the two galvanized
iron wash basins.
The door opened and a burly man, dressed in cheap ready-made
clothes but with an air of authority and prosperity, was
smiling at her. "The madam told me to walk right in and make
myself at home," said he. "Yes, you're up to her account of
you. Only she said you were dead drunk and would probably be
asleep. Now, honey, you treat me right and I'll treat you right."
"Get out of here!" cried Susan. "I'm going to leave this
house. They drugged me and brought me here."
"Oh, come now. I've got nothing to do with your quarrels with
the landlady. Cut those fairy tales out. You treat me right
and----"
A few minutes later in came the madam. Susan, exhausted, sick,
lay inert in the middle of the bed. She fixed her gaze upon
the eyes looking through the hideous mask of paint and powder
partially concealing the madam's face.
"Well, are you going to be a good girl now?" said the madam.
"I want to sleep," said Susan.
"All right, my dear." She saw and snatched the five-dollar
bill from the pillow. "It'll go toward paying your board and
for the parlor dress. God, but you was drunk when they brought
you up from the bar!"
"When was that?" asked Susan.
"About midnight. It's nearly four now.
Pages:
780
781
782
783
784
785
786
787
788
789
790
791
792
793
794
795
796
797
798
799
800
801
802
803
804