Anyway, Gillian goes on. "I don't know about you, Gyp, but sometimes I wish someone would give me exactly what I deserve." At which point, anybody still residing in the Maison is forced to move out, as Gyp's giant boner will be occupying the entire first floor from now on.
Lumber Yard. Arnold Rothstein calls from New York, presenting himself as formally as possible when Eli answers the phone ("to whom am I speaking?"). He gets Nucky on the line and makes his offer: in exchange for a percentage of ownership in Overholt, Rothstein can arrange for Joe Masseria to remove his support from Gyp Rosetti. That means he'll pull all his men back up to New York. That percentage of Overholt he's asking for? 99 percent. It's a way out, he tells Nucky. It's a gouge, sure, but it's a way out. It's also Nucky's only hope for a lucrative future once this is all finished. But he hesitates mere moments before agreeing to the deal. The reasons why are hinted at after he hands up: "Big bait," he tells his brother, "catches big rat."
Well I guess every independent lady on HBO is living in Brooklyn now, because here's Margaret Thompson -- sorry, Margaret Rohan -- meeting with a Dr. and Mrs. Hollis and engaging in small talk about her place near Bushwick where she lives near her extended family. I wonder what the warehouse parties were like back during Prohibition. "Oh, you're into Scott Joplin? Yeah, he's pretty popular, I guess..." Mrs. Hollis shows Margaret to "the room," which turns out to be an examination room, confirming speculation that Margaret is here for an abortion. She approaches the topic abstractly -- "I need the doctor to bring my monthly on," she says. Mrs. Hollis is very matter-of-fact about it all. This doesn't feel surreptitious or dangerous; it's no back alley. "You can take a little time," she tells Margaret. "Come back if you'd like." I think if Margaret left the office, she might not come back. "I'm completely lost," she says, looking for an answer, but Mrs. Hollis says she never tells anyone what to do. Margaret finally asks if she is to leave her dress on. Mrs. Hollis goes to get her a clean gown, placing a hand on her shoulder as she goes.
Lucky's been freed from captivity and looks much better, rested and slick-haired again. He's in a corridor somewhere, and he's trying to explain to a stone-faced Meyer that he was collared and he made the best decision possible for them. They'll just have to pick up where they left off, and he'll cover the cost of the stash he had to give up. Lansky finally breaks his silence, only to deliver his trademark cold analytical take: "Fifty pounds. One thousand fucking dollars." Lucky can do the math. Probably wiser he doesn't say so.