An elastic snapped, she threw on the
table toward Cork a folded wad of bills. The money slowly straightened
itself with little leisurely jerks.
"Take that, Jimmy, and let's go," said the girl. "I'm declarin' the
usual dividends, Maguire," she said to the officer. "You had your usual
five-dollar graft at the usual corner at ten."
"A lie!" said the cop, turning purple. "You go on my beat again and I'll
arrest you every time I see you."
"No, you won't," said the girl. "And I'll tell you why. Witnesses saw me
give you the money to-night, and last week, too. I've been getting fixed
for you."
Cork put the wad of money carefully into his pocket, and said: "Come on,
Fanny; let's have some chop suey before we go home."
"Clear out, quick, both of you, or I'll--"
The cop's bluster trailed away into inconsequentiality.
At the corner of the street the two halted. Cork handed back the
money without a word. The girl took it and slipped it slowly into her
hand-bag. Her expression was the same she had worn when she entered
Rooney's that night--she looked upon the world with defiance, suspicion
and sullen wonder.
"I guess I might as well say good-bye here," she said dully.
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