"Aw, Jimmie, look at 'em, so blond and all!"
"They're a broken-winded bunch. Look at them bottles on their table! We're going to have twice as many and only one color in our glasses, kiddo. Yellow, the same yellow as your hair, the kinda yellow that's mostly gold. That's the kind of bubble water we're going to buy, kiddo!"
"Jimmie, such a spender!"
"That's me!"
"It's sure like the girls say—the sky's your limit."
"Look, Doll, there's the swellest little dancer in this town—one swell little pal and a good sport. Watch her, kiddo—watch her do that staircase dance. Ain't she a lalapaloo!"
A buxom nymph of the grove, whose draperies floated from her like flesh-colored mist, spun to the wild passion of violins up the eight marble steps of the marble flight. A spotlight turned the entire range of the spectrum upon her. She was like a spinning tulip, her draperies folding her in a cup of sheerest petals, her limbs shining through.
"Classy, ain't she, Doll?"
"Well, I guess!"
"Wanna meet her? There ain't none of 'em that 'ain't sat at my table many a time."