Cokey Jenny drew along. A soiled green dress, a flaming red felt hat and dusty satin slippers were the total wardrobe her rambling body carried. She struck a sporty note with a flashy black oilcloth purse. Jenny’s gin voice was a scraping rasp. Her eyes resembled steel-headed prison bolts as the cruel purple mouth opened into a witch-laughing salute to Babe. Babe nailed her with a cross-examining eye, and stabbed her with slow words of pain that touched Jenny’s pride.

“You walkin’ gin house. What the hell’s the meanin’ of bein’ late like this? I had three tumbles the time I’ve been waitin’ for you.”

“What a’ ya talkin’ about? I ain’t touched no gin since last night.”

“Damn liar! Bet you wouldn’t be here now, if Toni hadn’t pulled the bottle out of your hand and put you out.”

“I was up at Nigger Gert’s. A guy up there busted Sing Sing, an’ he sent me word he wanted a fixup of coke with his liquor. Jackass is goin’ to pull another job. Look, here’s the dough. Five bucks he give me for a couple of powders. I didn’t even take a drink from Gert. Who’s been blowin’ around tonight?”

“Saw Tiger Williams,” said Babe, “breeze in with the manager of the Black and Tan Revue. I’m not so particular tonight. I’m tellin’ you I ain’t passin’ up anything that looks like a lousy buck. I got to give that landlady somethin’ besides a bye and bye smile tomorrow. Ought to be some class, though, in this bunch tonight. Maybe a bank roll.”

A classy dinge passed them by and gave Babe the eye.

“Oh, did you see that?” cried Babe. “Kinder Spanish lookin’.”

“Do you know him?” asked Jenny.

“Looks like one of them light-colored musicians at the Bamboo Inn.”

“How about him? Thought you was willin’ to make a dollar tonight.”

“Shut up! I tell you, handsome niggers is lookin’ for white women to live on. Hell! get some education while you're in Harlem.”

“You must of had that kind.”

“Maybe that’s how I know.”

“Sure wish somethin’ rotten would turn up now. There’s Wop Russo goin’ in with a high yella. Sure a classy mulatto jane. I ain’t seen him up here for months. Here comes Charlie Yates, and I’ll bet he spits right in your eye, too,” Jenny ended.

“Come on,” said Babe. “Let’s look ’em over from inside and do our stuff.”