"What's yours?" he asked, as his roving eye made an inventory of her outward apparel. His sardonic approval of that apparel only seemed to anger her. She gave no expression to that anger, however, for a knock sounded on the door and brought a sudden chill about her heart where the tightness of the steel blue tailor-made had already established certain vague discomforts.
She saw, to her relief, that it was merely the slatternly bell-boy with a pitcher of beer and a cheese sandwich. Shindler, after inspecting the tray, sent for a second glass.
"You seem to be on Easy Street," he continued, as the boy took his departure.
"Are yuh?" Sadie demanded.
"I'm goin' to be, or I'm goin' to know the reason why," was Shindler's retort. For the first time he spoke with a perceptible trace of passion.
"It'll never be in this burg," announced Sadie.
"Why won't it?" he demanded.
"Yuh know, Abe, I'm a kind of a astrologer and clairvoyant these days. That's me purfession, this season. And I've been readin' your stars, and they sure say yuh're goin' to travel!"
There was a touch of scorn in his smile.
