Miss Dobriner's hand flew to her throat and the gem that gleamed there.
"I--I guess I can buy a stone on time for myself without--without any
insinuations."

"You can wear the stone, all right, Gert, but you can't get past the
insinuations."

"I--I ain't so stuck on this place, madam, that I got to stand for your
insinuations."

"No, it ain't the _place_ you're stuck on that keeps you here, Gert."

They regarded each other through eyes banked with the red fires of
anger, and beside the full-length mirror Miss Dobriner trembled as she
stood.

"You can think what you please, madam. I--I'm hired by Phonzie and I'm
here to wear models and not to steer your thinking."

Madam Moores sat so tense in her chair that her weight did not relax to
it. "You and me can't have no fusses, you know that, don't you? I give
Phonzie the run of my floor, and he's the one has to deal with--with
freshness."

"You--you started it, madam. I--can get along with anybody. I don't have
to stay in a place where I'm not wanted; it's just because Phonzie--"

"We won't fuss about it, Gertie. I'm the last one to fall out with my
help."