"Specialty?"
"No—er—high-class burlesque—two a day."
"Oh!"
"You workin', Ysobel?"
"Got three things danglin'—ain't signed yet. Just came in last week."
"S'long."
"S'long. Come on, Della. Watch out there, Eddie—a fellow burnt a hole in my friend lookin' at her like that once."
A titter ran around the elevator, and the old young man writhed in his blue-striped collar.
"'Sh-h-h, Ysobel; everybody heard you." A rosily opalescent hue swam high into Della's face as she stepped out of the elevator, and dyed her neck.
"I should worry! I was never out with him in a show in my life that he didn't ogle a hole in every queen he seen. Out in Spokane onct he—"