Pádraig was uncomfortable riding in the carriage. He would have preferred to walk about the city conducting his business because he felt closer to the workingmen when he did, but Nanette insisted they go by carriage, even short distances, whenever she accompanied him. To do less, she said, was a sign of disrespect to her, and lowered their standings in the eyes of San Franciscans.

“Look at me,” she said as they rode toward Fire Station Six’s engine house, “I am a sorry sight to be seen by those men.”

“Sorry sight? You are one of the most beautiful women in the City. Look how that dress shows off your figure that I love so much to hold. You are perfect.”

“Far from it! I could be prettier if I were better dressed. You keep me in rags, Pádraig.”

“Are we talking about this again?”

“It’s important for me to look my best when I accompany you to these meetings.”

“What’s important, Nanette, is that I keep the men’s support. Most of them at Fire Six came from Baltimore and farther south. We need them on our side.”

“Exactly. If you dressed me better it would make a stronger impression on them. I need a new frock. Two would be better still. You haven’t bought me anything new in weeks.”

“I’m doing the best I can. I’ll buy you a new dress soon.”

“And when will that be, pray tell?” She sat forward on the carriage seat, probing him with narrowed eyes and a straightened brow. The auburn ringlets of her hair were bouncing up and down on the sides of her face as she grew more agitated.

“Soon, I promise.” “You always promise. I am devoting all my time to you. You are the only man allowed in my bed, and yet you treat me as if I am nothing. I’m not nothing, Pádraig! Think how lucky you are to have me. You just said I’m one of the most beautiful women in San Francisco, but do you treat me that way? No, you don’t! Maybe I made a mistake with you.”