"Honest to Gawd, Ysobel; I don't know what—"
"Ain't I told you to cut out that ingenoo with me—honest, it gets on my nerves! Watch out, there!"
"Gee; that scart me!"
"Them are pay-as-you-exit taxi-cabs we're dodging. The chorus-girls' sun-parlors, if you listen to the Sunday supplements and funny papers."
"The time we—came—John—was a great one for watchin' them."
"Take it from me that about all nine out of ten of us gay la-la girls you read about, get out of 'em, is watchin'. All we know about them is dodgin' them after the show to get home in a hurry, stick our feet in hot water to get some of the ache out, and fall into bed too tired to smear the cold-cream off."
"Watch out, there, Ysobel!"
"The truth about the chorus-girl would cripple the box-office and put the feature supplements and press-agents out of business. Here we are, Della—I got to stop off at nine just a minute, and you wait outside for me; remember when we get up to eleven—Western circuit, silent principal and—"
"Western circuit—Western circuit!"
The Putney Building reared nineteen white-tile, marble-façaded stories straight up from the most expensive heart-acreage of Broadway and stemmed the Thespian tide that rushed in from every side and surged against its booking-offices.