"Oh, Marky, you were jealous!"
Mr. Zinsheimer grunted.
"Well, if you want to find a new backer, go ahead. All right, only you'd better be careful I don't get cold feet first. Feather importers is in demand on Broadway this season," he added as an afterthought.
"But Mr. Gordon is an old friend," pouted Flossie. "I was introduced to him one night when he sat at a table next to me during the run of 'Florodora.'"
"I suppose you were one of them original sextetters, eh?"
"Now, Marky, don't be horrid when I was just going to ask a little favor of you."
Mr. Zinsheimer rose to his feet carefully, and buttoned up his coat with an ominous air, while, relieved of his ballast, Flossie almost fell from her comfortable perch on the arm of the big chair.
"Nothing doing, Flossie," remarked Zinsheimer, coldly. "Of course it's all right for me to pay the hotel bill of my fiancée, but as the bill is assuming generous proportions, I don't think the fiancée should expect to go any further."
Flossie's dark eyes half filled with tears, and there was just a slight suspicion of a twitch around the lips at the injustice done her, and she said plaintively:
"Oh, I don't want to borrow any money."