“Then how the devil did you manage to leave enough in the petty cash for your salary?” Gees inquired. “That’s ten at the least, and I know you had to make a show of keeping level on Guinnesses.”
Again he resumed reading—
The old lady didn’t never say she was the young one’s mother, and her name was really Stephanie, because the harridan had got a look at her rent book once an’ seen it— Madame Lucille Stephanie, it was. An’ the young one was Curtis— Miss Belle Curtis. Most of the gentlemen called her Miss Curtis, an’ one or two called her just Belle, only sometimes she choked ’em off for doin’ of it. (My harridan was well away and keeping to the point splendidly, now.) An’ there was one, not young, he wasn’t, an’ gettin’ stout, but a rich man you could see as soon as you lamped his fizzog
