"
"You could if you loved a man," said Gabe stubbornly.
The hard lines around the jaw and the experienced lines about
the eyes seemed suddenly to stand out on Effie's face.
"Love's young dream is all right. But you've reached the age
when you let your cigar ash dribble down onto your vest. Now me,
I've got a kimono nature but a straight-front job, and it's kept me
young. Young! I've got to be. That's my stock in trade. You
see, Gabie, we're just twenty years late, both of us. They're not
going to boost your salary. These days they're looking for kids on
the road--live wires, with a lot of nerve and a quick come-back.
They don't want old-timers. Why, say, Gabie, if I was to tell you
what I spend in face powder and toilette water and hairpins alone,
you'd think I'd made a mistake and given you the butcher bill
instead. And I'm no professional beauty, either. Only it takes
money to look cleaned and pressed in this town."
In the seclusion of the cafe corner, Gabe laid one plump,
highly manicured hand on Effie's smooth arm. "You wouldn't need to
stay young for me, Effie. I like you just as you are, with
out the powder, or the toilette water, or the hair-pins."
His red, good-natured face had an expression upon it that was
touchingly near patient resignation as he looked up into Effie's
sparkling countenance.
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