We've got
to play safe here; it's worth waiting for, believe me. Besides, all
the while Maggie's getting practice."
"Seems to me we ought to make our clean-up quick. So that--so that--"
"See here--you think you got some other swell game you want to use
Maggie in?"
Old Jimmie's shifty gaze wavered before Barney's glare.
"No. But she's my daughter, ain't she?"
"Yes. But who's running this?" Barney demanded. Thank Heavens, Old
Jimmie was one person he did not have to treat like a prima donna!
"You are."
"Then shut up, and let me run it!"
"You might at least tell if you've decided how you're going to run
it," persisted Old Jimmie.
"Will you shut up!" snapped Barney.
Old Jimmie said no more. And having asserted his supremacy over at
least one of the two, Barney relented and condescended to talk,
lounging back in his chair with that self-conscious grace which had
helped make him a figure of increasing note in the gayer restaurants
of New York.
It did not enter into Barney's calculations, present or for the
future, to make Maggie the mistress of any man. Not that Barney was
restrained by moral considerations. The thing was just bad business.
Such a woman makes but comparatively little; and what is worse, if she
chooses, she makes it all for herself.
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