The swell goods for me. Say, they look fine on you, Moll.” .
Molly hugged the sables to her bosom in rapture. And then her smile went away little by little, and she looked the Kid straight in the eye sadly and steadily.
He knew what every look of hers meant; and he laughed with a faint flush upon his face.
“Cut it out,” he said, with affectionate roughness. “I told you I was done with that. I bought ’em and paid for ’em, all right, with my own money?”
“Out of the money you worked for, Kid? Out of $75 a month?”
“Sure. I been saving up.”
“Let’s see—saved $425 in eight months, Kid?”
“Ah, let up,” said the Kid, with some heat. “I had some money when I went to work. Do you think I’ve been holding ’em up again? I told you I’d quit. They’re paid for on the square. Put ’em on and come out for a walk.”
Molly calmed her doubts. Sables are soothing. Proud as a queen she went forth in the streets at the Kid’s side. In all that region of low-lying streets Russian sables had never been seen before. The word sped, and doors and windows blossomed with heads cager to see the swell furs Kid Brady had given his girl. All down the street there were “Oh’s” and “Ah’s,” and the reported fabulous sum paid for the sables was passed from lip to lip, increasing as it went. At her
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