``Well, that's your business, Mr. Skyros,'' said Angie, and his dreamy eyes moved past Mr. Skyros' shoulder to gaze vaguely out the ground glass window. ``I appreciate it, you do that. Sure. We don't none of us want no trouble. I'm in a room over the Golden Club on San Pedro, you just ask for me there, you want see me. Or maybe I call you -- tonight? About nine o' clock, I call and see if you got any. A couple decks for me, Mr. Skyros -- and ten twelve to sell, see, I like to have a little ready cash.''

``Oh, now, I don't know about that much,'' said Mr. Skyros. ``And you know, Angelo, Pretty, he always keeps it a strict cash basis, like they say'' --

``Sure,'' said Angie. ``Sure, Mr. Skyros. Fifty a throw, that the deal? Sure. I bring you the cash, say five hundred for ten decks. Never mind how much I cut it, how much I get,'' and he smiled his sleepy smile again. ``Standard deal, Mr. Skyros. You go 'n' have a look round for it.''

``I do my best,'' said Mr. Skyros earnestly, ``just for you, my friend. This is awkward for everybody, isn't it, we all got to put up with inconvenience sometimes. But I do my best for you.'' He got out of there in a hurry, brushing past another man in the door, mopping his brow.

The expedient thing -- yes, very true, one must make do as one could, in some situations. It could all be straightened out later. Not very much later, but when things had settled down a little. After this deal with the Bouvardier woman went through. An ace of spades. He was not a superstitious man, but he felt perhaps there was a little something in that, indeed. He rather wished he had never got into the business, and still -- scarcely to be resisted, a nice little profit with not much work involved, easy money.