"You'll send for him?" cried Martha, gladly.
"I'll telephone him to come as fast as a taxi can bring him," declared Mrs. Anderson. "I guess that will bring you to your senses."
"I hope it does," murmured Martha, softly, burying her face in the fragrant flowers. And to herself she added: "I wonder if he'll come?"
"Come right in, Mr. Zinsheimer," cried the shrill voice of Pinkie Lexington in the outer hall. "I saw you clear across the street and hurried down the back way," she continued, leading him into the parlor. "Flossie has just gone out, but maybe, if you wait, she'll come back soon."
"Well, I don't mind if I do," declared Marcus Zinsheimer, shedding his great fur coat and peering curiously at Martha, who busied herself with her flowers by the piano. "Who's that?" he added softly.
"That's Martha Farnum," whispered Pinkie. "She's at the Casino and that haughty—but I'm going to be friends with her."
"As though two chorus girls could be friends," interrupted the knowing "Marky."
"I'm not a chorus girl," corrected Pinkie. "And anyhow, she has a very wealthy admirer who might star her, and if he does I'd like to be in her company. See?"
"Oho! That's the racket, eh?" laughed "Marky." "You may be right. A ton of money, an ounce of sense, a pretty girl and a love-sick angel have made many a star in the theatrical firmament."
"And while it lasts, I might just as well be in the push," added Pinkie, wisely. "Gawd knows I need the money."