"Why, Flossie, how can you? I'm sure I don't want to steal your gentleman friend."
Flossie put her arm affectionately around Pinkie's somewhat large waist and laughed.
"Never mind, dear, I was only joking. Of course you know it is understood that Mr. Zinsheimer and I are to get married as soon as my lawsuit is settled."
Zinsheimer himself entered at this juncture, and Pinkie was formally introduced to the generous feather importer. She started to cry as he patted her hand cordially, holding it just a trifle longer than was absolutely necessary, and thereby eliciting a warning look from the alert Flossie.
"Oh, Mr. Zinsheimer, it's such a relief to meet a real gentleman," cried Pinkie, half in tears. "Honestly, I could almost hug you for your kindness to a poor little shipwrecked, stranded girl. I am so helpless and alone."
"There, there, now, don't cry," protested "Marky." "Your Uncle Marky will see that you don't go hungry this trip."
At this point Flossie dexterously inserted herself between the couple and coughed until "Marky" let Pinkie's hand drop.
"Didn't I say you'd like him, Pinkie?" she observed sharply.
"Let's go over and play roulette," suggested Zinsheimer. "Maybe we can win enough to get Pinkie a new outfit, eh?" And he looked doubtfully over the somewhat worn suit which was poor Pinkie's only possession.
At that Pinkie sobbed audibly. "I'm sorry to disgrace you," she wailed, "but the horrid manager of the hotel in Indianapolis wouldn't let me take my trunk until I paid him seventeen dollars and forty-five cents. And where could I get all that money?"