And being noticed is the
beginning of success in this-man's-town. I'm not sure it isn't the end,
too. Just see how the head waiter fell all over himself when you came
in. I expect he's telling that bunch at the long table yonder who you
are now."
"Let him," returned Banneker comfortably, his long-bred habit of
un-self-consciousness standing him in good stead. "They'll all forget it
soon enough."
As he glanced over at the group around the table, the man who was
apparently acting as host caught his eye and nodded in friendly fashion.
"Oh, you know Marrineal, do you?" asked Cressey in surprise.
"I've seen him, but I've never spoken to him. He dines sometimes in a
queer little restaurant way downtown, just off the Swamp. Who is he,
anyway?"
"Puzzle. Nobody in the clubs knows him. He's a spender. Bit of a
rounder, too, I expect. Plays the Street, and beats it, too."
"Who's the little beauty next him?"
"You a rising light of Park Row, and not know Betty Raleigh? She killed
'em dead in London in romantic comedy and now she's come back here to
repeat."
"Oh, yes. Opening to-night, isn't she? I've got a seat." He looked over
at Marrineal, who was apparently protesting against his neighbor's
reversed wine-glass. "So that's Mr.
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