Babe had been one man’s woman too long to hanker for the diversified gluttonies of her street days with Cokey Jenny. The excitement that a constant stream of men roused in her sensual temperament was afforded by the adventure of the dope racket she was in. The man-hunt was no longer an economic necessity, as she was making big money with Lou and Harry. Selling dope gave her a great kick, an absolutely new kind of power. The risks of detection only added glamor to the game.

Babe had plenty of new clothes and a very attractive apartment of her own on Washington Heights. After her day’s work in Baldwin’s Five and Ten was done, she spent the early evening resting at home, then at midnight she flung herself into the gay, carefree night life of Harlem.

She had to be in at work at nine o’clock every morning, but she managed to get along on a few hours sleep a night, just as thousands of other girls in New York City do.

She went everywhere—sometimes in the company of Lou and Harry, often with Money Johnson as her escort. They would join mixed color parties going from one place to another, drinking and dancing, with sex always beguiling them on to madder music or more sensuous scenes.

On her pleasure rounds Babe saw many blasé white society women gayly dancing with men of every shade of color from the cream of the creole to the charcoal black of darkest Africa—negro girls with soft brown eyes and fertile bodies filled with primitive fire, sitting with their white lovers, happy to be seen with men of social standing, wealth and culture.

Near the club rooms of the Negro Vaudeville Artists’ Association were the “circuses” or “peep-shows” where if one had the price he could watch the antics of blacks, and blacks and whites, in the tortured postures of cruel, will-destroying, soul-naked passion.

This was the hectic underworld of Harlem that Babe knew so well. And even this was only a veiled glimpse of the unmentionable things it offered for a price.

Babe had long been acquainted with an infinite variety of diversions. After the dull routine of her married life she came back to her fancy work with fresh enjoyment.

One of Babe’s favorite night resorts was the Harlem Breakfast Club. It got the “breakfast” part of its name because it opened at midnight and closed at midday, which pretty well covered the breakfast hour of its patrons. She loved it because it had more swank than most of the other places. There was always a white society crowd there, and the music, cabaret and general atmosphere were all bound to be hotter than hot.