I thought maybe I might see you in the city,
and I knowed you'd like somethin' from the old home."
He took from his coat pocket a rose--a drooping, yellow, velvet,
odorous rose, that hung its head in the foul atmosphere of that
tainted rathskeller like a virgin bowing before the hot breath of the
lions in a Roman arena.
Miss Carrington's penetrating but musical laugh rose above the
orchestra's rendering of "Bluebells."
"Oh, say!" she cried, with glee, "ain't those poky places the limit?
I just know that two hours at Cranberry Corners would give me the
horrors now. Well, I'm awful glad to have seen you, Mr. Summers.
Guess I'll bustle around to the hotel now and get my beauty sleep."
She thrust the yellow rose into the bosom of her wonderful, dainty,
silken garments, stood up and nodded imperiously at Herr Goldstein.
Her three companions and "Bill Summers" attended her to her cab. When
her flounces and streamers were all safely tucked inside she dazzled
them with au revoirs from her shining eyes and teeth.
"Come around to the hotel and see me, Bill, before you leave the
city," she called as the glittering cab rolled away.
Highsmith, still in his make-up, went with Herr Goldstein to a cafe
booth.
"Bright idea, eh?" asked the smiling actor. "Ought to land 'Sol
Haytosser' for me, don't you think? The little lady never once
tumbled."
"I didn't hear your conversation," said Goldstein, "but your make-up
and acting was O.
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