Shine Taylor scrutinized his condition, as he asked for another cigarette. As he yielded to an apparent craving for sleep, the others danced and chatted, while Taylor disappeared through the hall door. After a few minutes he returned to grimace slightly at Warren. Shirley roused himself from his stupor.
“Bonbon, let us be going. Good-night, everybody.”
He walked unsteadily to the door, amid a chorus of noisy farewells, with Helene unsteady and hilarious behind him. Warren and Shine seemed satisfied with their hospitable endeavors, as they bade good-night. The elevator brought up two belated guests, the roseate Pinkie and a colorless youth.
“Oh, are you going, Mr. Shirley? What a blooming shame. I just left the most wonderful supper-party at the Claridge to see you.”
“Too bad: I hope for better luck next time.”
“The elevator is waiting,” and Helene's gaze was scornful. Shirley restrained his smile at the girl's covert hatred of the redhaired charmer. Then he asked maliciously: “Isn't she interesting? Too bad she associates with her inferiors.”
“You put it mildly.”
“Here, boy, call a taxicab,” he ordered the attendant, as they reached the lower level.
“Sorry, boss, but I dassent leave the elevator at this time of night. I'm the only one in the place jest now.”
Shirley insisted, with a duty soother of silver, but the negro returned in a few minutes, shaking his head. Shirley ordered him to telephone the nearest hacking-stand. Then followed another delay, without result.