"Fact," admitted Zinsheimer. "I always liked you best, Flossie, until you got mad at me because I helped Pinkie, but when I saw you playing the demure little maid last night, with Pinkie lording it all over you, and you never answering back, I said: 'There's the girl for me.' So I waited at the stage door, and when you came out I grabbed you and we sat up so late at Jack's that it was morning before we finished talking things over. So then there was only one thing to do—get married."
"Sure, you both look happy," said Lizzie.
"And we are happy, aren't we, Marky?" cried Flossie. "I'm going to give up the stage for good and all."
"You can have this apartment in an hour," said Lizzie. "Miss Farnum is giving it up because it's too expensive."
"Too expensive for her, eh?" smiled Zinsheimer; then he added confidentially: "I know lots of people who would consider it an honor to be allowed to pay her rent."
"Marky," cried Flossie, warningly. "Remember you are a married man now."
"Marky," to conciliate his bride, took her in his arms and kissed her. At this psychological moment, Miss Pinkie Lexington emerged from the boudoir. She shrieked at the sight.
"Marky," she cried. "You here with Flossie?"
Flossie proudly drew Zinsheimer far from the possibility of contact with Miss Lexington, and proudly, almost haughtily, threw a defiant look at her rival.