My cloak, sir!"
He tossed it about her, and took up his hat and gold-headed
stick. With a final glance at his own careful make-up, he
started after her for the street.
"Some chikabiddy!" was the remark of the clerk to the head
bell-boy. The words reached the ears of Shirley and Helene. Her
hand trembled on his arm as they entered a waiting taxicab. She
looked pathetically at him, as she asked.
"Don't you think I am interested, sincere and loyal, to brave
such remarks as these, and the other worse things they will say
before long? I wouldn't dare do this, if I were not sure that no
one in America but you and Mr. Holloway knows me. To wear this
horrid stuff on my face--to dress in these vulgar clothes--to
impersonate such a girl! You know I'm not nearly as bad as I'm
painted!"
Shirley clasped her white-gloved hand and nodded. He was
studying the pedestrians for a familiar twain of faces. He was
not disappointed, as the car swung into Broadway.
"Look--those two men have been following me wherever I have gone.
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