"Sure we do, Jimmie. Honest, I—To-morrow night I—I can fix it so that—that the sky's my limit. I'll meet you at Hinkley's at eight, cross my heart on a wishbone, Jimmie."
"Cross it!"
"There!"
"To-night, Jimmie, I'm chilled—all in. Look at me in these duds,
Jimmie. I'm cold. Oh, Jimmie, get me a cab quick, please; I'm co-old!"
She relaxed frankly into a chill that rumbled through her and jarred her knees together. A little rivulet of water oozed from her hair, zigzagged down her cheek and seeped into her blouse, but her blue-lipped smile persisted.
"Ain't I a nut, though! But wait till you see me dolled up to-morrow night, Jimmie! Eight at Hinkley's. I didn't have a hunch how cold—how cold that water was. Next time they gotta—heat it."
"Got to heat it is good, Doll! All I got to do is ask once, and my word's law round here. Here, take a swallow and warm up, hon. You don't need to go home if you warm up right."
But the glass tinked against her teeth.
"I—I can't'"
"Gowann, kiddo!"