Mr. Skyros did not at all like the look on Angelo's regular featured, almost girlishly good-looking face -- or indeed anything about Angelo. Mr. Skyros was not a man who thought very much about moral principles; he found money much more interesting; but all the same he thought now, uneasily, of the way in which Angelo earned his living -- and paid for his own stuff -- and eyed the soft smile, and the spaniel like dark eyes, and he felt a little ill.

``Look, my friend,'' he said, ``in my life I learn, how is it the proverb says, better an ounce of prevention to a pound of cure. I stay in business so long because I'm careful. Two weeks, a month, we talk it over again, and maybe if nothing happens meanwhile to say the cops know this and that, then we make a little deal, isn't it?''

``That's a long while,'' said Angie. ``I tell you, you want to leave it that way, I don't fool around with it. I go over to Castro and get fixed up there. I cann't wait no two weeks.''

And Mr. Skyros didn't like Angie, but what with Prettyman and three of his boys inside, and not likely to come out -- And Angie such a valuable salesman, Prettyman said -- All the nuisance and danger of getting in touch with practically a whole new bunch of boys -- Why did everything have to happen at once?

Denny said stupidly, ``Why, you ain't turning Angie down, are you, Mr. Skyros? I mean, we all figured -- I guess anybody'd figure -- Angie'' --