Here, I am safe from molestation."
"A great view of the Park--what a fine library for real reading;
and I see you have a typewriter--the same make I used to thump,
when I did newspaper work--a Remwood. Let me see some of your
literary work, sometime--"
Warren waved a deprecating hand. "Very little--editors do not
like it. I do better with an adding machine down on Wall Street
than a typewriter. But let us join the others." There was a
noticeable reluctance about dwelling upon the typewriter subject.
Warren hurried into the drawing-room, as Shirley followed with a
perceptible stagger.
Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for another
cigarette. As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the
others danced and chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the
hall door. After a few minutes he returned to grimace slightly
at Warren. Shirley roused himself from his stupor.
"Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody."
He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells,
with Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him.
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