He means nothing in my life. You
seemed quite worried over him, though--"
"Yes, girlie," was Pinkie's effort to parry. "I was upset--not
because he was with you, but to see the old chap showing his age.
His taste has deteriorated so much since he started wearing
glasses. But why don't you introduce me to your gentleman
friend?"
Helene's faint smile expressed volumes, as she turned toward the
modest Shirley with a bow of condescension. "This is Pinkie, one
of old Grimsby's sweethearts, Mr. Shirley. I'm sure you'll like
her."
"Are you Montague Shirley?" demanded the auburn-haired coquette
with sudden interest. As Shirley nodded, she caught his hand
with an ardent glance, ogling him impressively, as she continued:
"I've heard a lot of you. I'm just that pleased to meet you!"
An indefinable resentment crept over Helene. How could this
creature of the demi-monde have even distant acquaintance of such
a wholesome, superior man as her escort? The effusiveness was
irritating, and the overacted kittenishness of the girl made her
sick at heart, although she betrayed no sign of her feeling.
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