"It is half-past two. I must hurry down to East Twenty-fifth
Street and the East River, at the yacht club mooring, before
three. Tomorrow I will give you my version in some quiet
restaurant, far from the gadding crowd of the White Light
district."
He rose, drawing back his chair; they walked to the elevator
together. The clerk beckoned politely.
"A gent named Mr. Warren telephoned to ask if you were home yet,
Miss Marigold. I told him not yet. Was that wrong?"
"It was very kind of you. Thank you so much," and Helene's smile
was the cause of an uneasy flutter in the breast of the blase
clerk. "Good-night."
"That's a lucky guy, at that, Jimmie," confided the clerk to the
bell-boy. "She is some beauty show, ain't she? And she's on the
right track, too."
"Yep, but she's too polite to be a great actress or a star. Her
temper'ment ain't mean enough!" responded this Solomon in brass
buttons. "I hopes we gits invited to the wedding!"
Outside, Shirley enjoyed the stimulus of the bracing early
morning air.
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