At the Ritz, Margaret and Anabelle are admiring each other's jewelry, telling semi-bawdy jokes about "how's your Harry?" and generally enjoying their life of leisure. Madame Jeunet approaches, in quite a state, begging Margaret for help. We're not sure why until, like Godzilla marching in from the sea, out stomps Lucy, who seems drunk and belligerent, but that just might be Lucy. She tersely shrugs off Anabelle's greeting, then goes back to Jeunet, who tells Margaret that Lucy is insisting on being able to purchase on Nucky's credit, even though she's been cut off. Madame Jeunet once again begs Margaret to do ... something. At this, Lucy turns to Margaret and addresses her bitchily as "Mrs. MacDougal." Margaret corrects her, and Lucy asks if "Schroeder" is "Irish for 'bitch'?" Margaret fixes her with a glare, grits her teeth and says, "You're not at your best now, and you should leave." Lucy's not ready to go yet, instead slurring at Margaret, "You think you understand him?" Margaret defiantly asks her, "What if I did?" Lucy: "Then you're the dumbest Dora I ever met." Clearly, Margaret doesn't appreciate the sly and prescient Match Game reference, because she hauls off and cracks Lucy across the face. "The next time won't be nearly as pleasant," she promises, and storms off. Lucy-haters, that right there was Christmas come early.
At the Darmody abode, Angela is putting the finishing touches on her painting of a naked female, apparently unworried that anyone will add it up to her secret relationship with Mary. (Which is weird, because last week, she seemed to think Nucky had secret powers of deduction and was generally pretty paranoid about it.) She turns to Tommy and asks him what he thinks of it. Tommy calls upon his vast recollection of past nudes he's taken in, from Paris to Vienna to the Italian countryside, and gives his honest assessment of his mother's work: "She looks pwetty." She sure does. Gillian returns, with the overdue grocery bill in her hand. She also says she checked the mailbox -- and with the postman himself -- and still nothing from Jimmy. Clearly, money has become a concern. Gillian looks at the painting and makes a face -- not exactly inscrutable, but I'm not quite decided if she blames Angela for her infidelity (I'm convinced she knows) or just for not being practical about it. She tells Angela it's probably time to get a job. Angela says: "My friend Mary said the same thing." Gillian: makes the face. She suggests Angela might sell "Little Dot," which is door-to-door perfume, a kind of proto-Avon. Angela says it's not her thing, which leads Gillian to make a crack about "you bohemian types" not wearing perfume. Angela says there's an art dealer in Greenwich Village who's agreed to look at her work. Gillian cocks a skeptical eyebrow. When Angela says "Mary thinks I have a good chance," Gillian again is like, "...your friend?" You can see how Gillian would be frustrated by Angela, right? I'm not entirely sure of the sequence of events in her life, but it sure seems like she had Jimmy at age 14-ish, then started dancing burlesque to make ends meet and raise the kid. So the idea that Angela won't sell Mary Kay or take a stenography course and instead wants to indulge in her dreams of being an artist -- dreams the likes of which Gillian most likely abandoned pretty early on -- has to be somewhat infuriating. She covers it well.