She laughed again. She thrust her arm through his and turned his face uptown. "Forget it!" she said. "Don't you worry, Max; I ain't goin' to rake things up, if that's what's souring you. Life's too short. All I want is a talk and a drink." Half reluctantly, he let her lead him; but she could lead him and that sufficed her. He lit an American cigarette and puffed it nervously. "I've just been in there," she said, with a backward jerk of her head in the direction of the police-court. "There?" Max was not surprised, but he added: "Vhat vas you doin' in there?" "What do you think?" responded Mary. She herself was thinking rapidly--about other things. "You vasn't in drouble?" "I guess you would call it that." "Pinched?" "Yes." He had asked her no questions about her past--but concerning her present he chanced a query. "Mary," he inquired, "do you mean they god you up fer your beesiness?" "That's about it," she said. "But vhy don't you square you'self vith the goppers?" "I don't know. I--I was broke, Max." "I vish I gould _help_ you, Mary," he said, his curiosity cooling at the thought of an appeal for assistance. She saw it, and it amused her. "Can't you do it?" she asked, dropping her voice into a whine. He tried to draw away from her, but her linked arm held him affectionately fast. "I been havin' rotten luck," he declared; "somethin' awful. I ain't got hardly only the money vhat's in my _glothes_." "Well, then," said Mary, looking at the clothes and knowing well that they somewhere concealed an ample yellow sum, "why don't you take me on your staff?" "Mary," he cried, trying to spread his hands, and failing dismally with the one that her pinioning arm hampered, "vhat do you think I am? A millionaire? I ain't got no staff." "Come off!" she bantered. "I ain't--honest." "Still in the other line?" she persisted. "I thought you might be trottin' 'em on the street--they say there's more in it. Why do you stick to supplyin' the flats and the houses?" Her voice was the perfection of good nature, but he writhed under it. "Mary!" he pleaded. "Well," she said, disregarding his tone, and keeping his arm fast in her own, "you do supply 'em, don't you? I know one fellow who makes his livin' goin' the rounds, findin' what girls is sore on their madams an' then gettin' a commission by sneakin' 'em out an' changin' 'em to new flats. He lets on he's sellin' kimonas, but one sample's lasted him three years." "Mary!" repeated Max, more weakly. "That's the truth," she said, and then: "But can't you start street-work an' take me on your staff?" Again he looked at her, "No," he answered. "Not young enough lookin' now, eh?" She was still smiling. "Ach," he protested, "you oughtn't nod to be so _hard_ on a feller. If you chust knowed----"