"I don't mean your furniture. I mean your attitude toward people ... talking about my kind and your kind. It's Victorian." Gabby smiled. "We're both of us people. Don't let's quarrel." "No? I thought you come up here looking for a fight." "I don't believe in fighting. What is there to fight about?" "Your boy friend's letter." Aimee lit a cigarette. "I won't kid you, doll. I seen him write it last night. He was so dirty drunk he forget to put it in the envelope when he sealed it. I got it right here." "May I see it, please?" "Wouldn't you like to?" Aimee smiled without parting her lips. "Old three-names is in a bad jam, ain't he? I ought to take that letter to the cops. It's against the law writing dirty letters like that and sending 'em through the mail." "You misunderstand, Aimee. It was a joke." "Yeah? Ha. Ha. A gag got you up here so fast, did it? Try something else, doll." "I came up because I'm afraid other people will misunderstand ... like you." "Don't hand me that. I seen the fuss you and him made Thursday. I figured it out. That guy's off his rocker. He ought to be put away. He ain't fit to hang out with sane people. He's dangerous." Aimee crushed out the cigarette violently. "No wonder he beat hell outa me last week. I'm lucky I didn't get killed." "Then are you going to the police?" "So help me, I ought to. But I'm willing to be a right guy if he'll keep away from me ... and make it worth while. He can afford it, being a big-shot writer." "How much?" Gabby asked. Aimee gave her a poker face. "Ten grand." Gabby mustered herself and began her first lie. She burst out laughing. "What's so funny?" Aimee demanded. "Your price. You'll have to be a little more realistic." "He ain't got ten grand to keep outa trouble?" "Of course not." Gabby blushed, being unused to the sensation of flagrant lying. She inched her way further into falsehood. "How much do you think he gets for writing that show?" "At least three-four hundred bucks a week." "Half that." "You're crazy." "Half that," Gabby repeated. "One hundred and fifty dollars a week." "I don't believe it. "It's the truth." "He had a couple hundred bucks on him last Saturday." "It took him two months to save two hundred dollars." Gabby was discovering it was no problem at all to lie. She pointed to the television set. "It took him two months to save up enough to buy that present for you, Aimee. The money was supposed to be for me. I think you owe me a favor." "All right. Here's your favor. Five grand." Gabby shrugged. "He can't do it." "One grand. He's got to have a thousand bucks stashed somewhere. Everybody's got a thousand bucks." "I don't. Do you?" "I will if three-names don't want his letter to go to the cops." "All right," Gabby said. She held out her hand. "Now may I have the letter, please?" "Are you kidding, sister?" "I can't pay you until tomorrow. Won't you trust me?" "No." "But you want me to trust you." "You'll have to."