“I used to think I knew men,” she complained, “but, by God! I don’t. They’re lunatics, all of them.”

“So I poked him to give him back some of his self-respect. You know, treated him as I would a man instead of a down-and-outer who could be slapped around by girls.”

“Anything you say,” she sighed. “I give up. We ought to have a drink.”

We had the drink, and I said:

“You were saying you’d work with me if there was a cut of the Willsson money in it for you. There is.”

“How much?”

“Whatever you earn. Whatever what you do is worth.”

“That’s uncertain.”

“So’s your help, so far as I know.”