At that there was an incredible flow of baby talk.
"Gemmemen ike ikkie gurl wiz naughty-naughty black curl-curlies?"
"You bet your life I do," said Mr. Loeb, unashamed of comprehension.
Mr. Kahn flashed another look at his watch.
"Say, don't you know, you girls oughtn't to keep us boys up so late.
Ain't there no wear out to you?"
The yellow curls to his right bounced sharply.
"He asks if there's a wear out to us, Cleone? I wish it to you this minute, Baldy, that you had the muscles in the back of my legs. I guess you think it's choice for us girls to come out on the floor after the show!"
"Sylvette!"
"Yah, it's my New-Year's resolution to tell the truth for thirty minutes if I'm bounced for it. If you got to know it, it's a ten-per-cent. rake-off for us girls on every bottle of golden vichy you boys blow us to."
"Honest, Sylvette, you're wearing scrambled eggs instead of brains to-night. Why don't you cry a few brinies for the gemmemen while you're at it!"