"Never you mind," replied Pinkie, obviously embarrassed.
"Mrs. Anderson said you went out riding in a taxi with a man," said Flossie, wonderingly. Then, as her eyes for the first time fell on Zinsheimer, who was trying to edge toward the door and escape unnoticed, she sprang to her feet, pointed her finger at the shrinking "Marky," and screamed: "With him?"
"None of your business," retorted Pinkie.
"Marky, have you been out with Pinkie?" cried Flossie. "Answer me."
"That's the man. Certainly," declared Mrs. Anderson.
"Well, what of it?" stammered "Marky." "I just took Pinkie down to a few of the stores, and there you are."
"Oh, you cat!" cried Flossie, stamping her foot and clenching her fists. "You hypocrite!"
"Now see here, I thought you girls was friends," began Zinsheimer. "Kiss and make up, girls."
"I won't call any one names," responded Pinkie, with the air of a martyr. "She has insulted me, but I will forgive her if she apologizes. Marky, tell her to apologize."
"Never!" cried Flossie, swinging in a circle so abruptly that the rattling chatelaines shot out at an angle of forty-five degrees. "I will never speak to her again, or to you either, Marky Zinsheimer. I'm through with both of you. In all my stage career this is the crowning disappointment. Oh, the degradation! To be cut out by a fat blonde!"