Thought it was gone forever. He insisted upon giving me ten percent collection fee. I didn't like to take it. I thought it looked kind of cheap, but the first thing you know, Arch begins to think I'm holding out for more money; so, of course, I took it then."
"Sure. Did he say anything about a job?"
"Well, not much. The McKays ain't making out so awfully well. If they'd take me in they'd do better, but of course they can't pay my price. Arch says a fellow over at the club—he wouldn't tell me who—is anxious to talk to me about a job, but when Arch mentioned what he'd pay I didn't want to know who the guy was. Come on, Lil, let's go out to the shore."
Lillian was dressing when Theresa arrived. Theresa had become a frequent visitor. Her little Essex was a familiar sight parked behind the big Packard.
She was dressed in a red and white silk gingham dress with a floppy red hat and red pumps. She looked cool and clean and pretty. She was a heartening visitor and had a manner of dropping in as willingly as though it was a pleasure to visit in the mean little apartment. She could slap at a roach in so casual a manner that Lillian was never embarrassed, and she could sit for hours on one of the wobbly Windsor chairs and look comfortable.
Lillian, clad in the blue georgette dress that had by now lost all of its original freshness and style, gazed wistfully at Theresa's trim summer togs.
"Don't let me keep you in," Theresa said. "I'm just barging around and if you have to go somewhere, don't let me interfere."
"No, glad to have you," said Lillian. The two girls
