“What makes you ask that, Nina?”
“Well, it’s something.”
Silence for a time, and then Polly spoke. “How do you think it went to-night, Nina?”
“Well, all I’ve got to say,” replied that worthy young woman, “if it went this well about one or two more nights a week or a month, we could retire and live along the Sound like ladies the rest of our lives.”
“I wish it was all back,” said Polly Pendleton, somberly.
“What do you mean?”
“Why, the money.”
“Well, of all things!” exclaimed Nina Stanton, staring at her partner. “What’s the matter with you, Polly? Have you gone crazy? What’s set you thinking this way? Of all things!”
“Well, it was that man, maybe. He mighty near queered me. It’s always a man, you know—a girl can’t get away from that.”
Nina still looked at her in wonderment. “You’re out of your head, kid,” said she. “If anyone in little old New York ought to be happy to-night, it’s you, sitting right there grouching like you are. They didn’t see me—I wasn’t there at all. You were the whole works. I hate to take the money from you—and I wouldn’t if I didn’t know you’d only spend it. I have to watch you like a mother, kid.”