Her face was sharper. “You bring me a bottle, Charley, The kind that lady had, with the Richmond scent. Hers has got a big silver stopper.” He pursed his mouth. “I don’t know,” he said. “I’ll try. I’d like to all right. You be a good girl now, Soph. Do you love me, Sophy?”

“Uh-huh,” she said, in a tired voice, thinking of pitchers.

“Well, I⁠—you’re a good girl, Soph.” He held her again. “I’m late,” he muttered. She looked at him and felt mean. He was skimpy like her. They ought to be nice to each other. She didn’t like him much but she sort of loved him. “You be a good girl till Charley comes back,” he mumbled, Kissing her nervously. “I’ll bring you the scent.”