ing the young and giddy ones to public banquets and musical comedies to give them that world-weary flavor which made them feel so thoroughly at home on a slice of fried restaurant ham.
Yes, for the first time that day Angie was falling in love. Cast no aspirin upon her, dear reader. She had no mother to guide her and caution her never to marry a man who didn’t keep a Ford and a butler. She was only a poor working girl into whose life there had come an unexpected gleam of raspberry, whose little heart was tingling, like a telephone bell ringing, ringing the wrong number. She was fond and foolish and freckled; and such, beloved brethren, are ever the victims of the bounder and the book agent. Thus endeth the First Lesson.
But we are getting away from the handsome stranger, something which Angie certainly was not. She had not only fallen in love, but into his arms.
He seemed to take her entree as a matter of course, and said nothing in some strange guttural language. But, by the twitching of his huge Transylvanian ears, Angie was aware that he was running a temperature.
