"Those tears will do you good. It was an intimate smell, the unmistakable scent of him and another woman. "What do you want fot that coat, friend?" asked Jack, as he came up. Everywhere I went and rapped at a door I found behind it another dreadful dingy woman—another fallen queen, I suppose— dingier than the last, dirty, you know, in grain. Every now and then something familiar in her tone, the poise of her head, the play of her eyes startled him. “I’d rather go as a chorus-girl,” she said. That is why Wall Street broke your father; he was honest.
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