Some swell affair! Olive cried. How's the young sheik?
How's la sheba? Byron retorted, smiling.
How's your old man or what have you? a new voice broke in.
Mary turned to face the good-humoured countenance of Montrose Esbon.
Hello, Monte! she cried. How did you get way up here?
All God's chillun's got a Ford! he explained.
Where's Yuma?
Sheiks are all after her. . . . He drew a safety razor blade from his waistcoat pocket. . . . They'd better look out. I'm big, bad Bill when I get started. I brought this along for carving. I don't let anybody two-time me!
I see her, said Olive, over there in that box.
My God! With the Garvey nobility, the Duchess of the Bronx and the Countess of Hackensack! If she travels with those dames I'll have to get a Packard! Or else, he turned to Olive, take you on in her place and commit moral turpitude.
Be yourself! Olive laughed.
When loveliness is seen,
he quoted.
Look at Russia Cloudcroft, Howard interrupted. She has a brow like a thunderstorm.
The Harlem Hedda Gabler! Montrose described her.
