"All right for you! We'll see the next time you ask me to go anywheres with you." Pete squirmed.
"Say," he said, beseechingly, "come wid me a minit an' I'll tell yer why." The woman waved her hand.
"Oh, that's all right, you needn't explain, you know.

You wouldn't come merely because you wouldn't come, that's all there is of it." To Pete's visible distress she turned to the mere boy, bringing him speedily from a terrific rage.

He had been debating whether it would be the part of a man to pick a quarrel with Pete, or would he be justified in striking him savagely with his beer glass without warning.
But he recovered himself when the woman turned to renew her smilings.
He beamed upon her with an expression that was somewhat tipsy and inexpressibly tender.
"Say, shake that Bowery jay," requested he, in a loud whisper.
"Freddie, you are so droll," she replied.
Pete reached forward and touched the woman on the arm.
"Come out a minit while I tells yeh why I can't go wid yer.

Yer doin' me dirt, Nell! I never taut ye'd do me dirt, Nell.

Come on, will yer ?" He spoke in tones of injury.
"Why, I don't see why I should be interested in your explanations," said the woman, with a coldness that seemed to reduce Pete to a pulp.
His eyes pleaded with her.