She sat up and brushed back her hair.
"Is this the place?"
"Right-o! Now for that steak smothered in mushrooms, and, gad! I could
manage a sweetbread salad on the side if you asked me right hard."
They drew up in the flood-light of the entrance.
"'Ain't I told you not to open the door for me, George? I don't need no
black hand reaching back here to turn the handle for me. That don't make
up for bad driving. Black hands off."
"Jerry!"
They alighted with an uncramping and unbending of limbs.
"How'd some Lynnhavens taste to you for a starter, Peachy?"
"Fine, whatever they are."
A liveried attendant bowed them up the steps.
A woman in blue velvet, her white arms bare to the shoulder and stars in
her hair, paused in the doorway to drop her cloak. Her heavy perfume
drifted out to meet them.
Sadie Barnet's clutch of her companion's arm quickened and her thoughts
ran forward.
"Jerry--gee! wouldn't I look swell in--in a dress like that? Gee! Jerry,
stars and all!"
The cords in the muscles of his arm rose under her fingers.
"Them ain't one-two-three-six to the duds I'm going to hang on you. I
know her; she's an old-timer. Them duds ain't one-two-three-six.
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