drink may not be set before the thirsty of the city of the four million. It is the law.
“Say,” said Cork McManus, almost covering the table with his eloquent chest and elbows, “was that dead straight about you workin’ in the bookbindery and livin’ at home—and just happenin’ in here—and—and all that spiel you gave me?”
“Sure it was,” answered the girl with spirit. “Why, what do you think? Do you suppose I’d lie to you? Go down to the shop and ask ’em. I handed it to you on the level.”
“On the dead level?” said Cork. “That’s the way I want it; because—
“Because what?”
“I throw up my hands,” said Cork. “You’ve got me goin’. You’re the girl I’ve been lookin’ for. Will you keep company with me, Ruby?”
“Would you like me to—Eddie?”
“Surest thing. But I wanted a straight story about—about yourself, you know. When a fellow has a girl—a, steady girl—she’s got to be all right, you know. She’s got to be straight goods.”
“You’ll find I’ll be straight goods, Eddie.”
“Of course you will. I believe what you told me. But you can’t blame me for wantin’ to find out. You don’t see many girls smokin’ cigarettes in places like Rooney’s after midnight that are like you.”
The girl flushed a little and lowered her eyes. “I
