"Fine boysh, m'deah. Boysh, meet little Bonbon--my protashsh!"
Little Bonbon was a pronounced attraction. Her vivacious charm
drew the eyes away from Shirley, who studied the expressions of
the weasel faces about him. The girl's heart sickened under the
brutal frankness of a dozen calculating eyes, yet she valiantly
maintained her part, while Shirley marveled at her clever
simulation of silly, giggly, semi-intoxication. One youth
deserted them to disappear through the distant dining room
entrance. The comments about the table were interesting to the
keen-eared masquerader.
"Old Grimsby's picked a live one, this time!"--"What show is she
with?"--"Won't Pinkie be sore?" The criminologist was not left
to wonder as to the identity of "Pinkie," for an older man,
walking behind a red-headed girl in a luridly modern gown,
approached the table with the absent guest. The men were talking
earnestly, the girl staring angrily at Shirley's, beautiful
companion.
"Hey, here come's Reggie! Sit down, Reg.
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