"Good! You can have just what kind of a window you like, Miss Ruby—just anything you—you like. After such a summer we can afford such a fall window as we want. I see the Busy Bee's got red-paper poppies in theirs—something like that, maybe, with—"
"Nix on paper flowers for us! I got a china-silk idea from a little drummer I met up in the country—one nice little fellow! I wonder if you know him? Simon Leavitt; he says he sold you goods. Simon Leavitt. Know him?"
"No."
"One nice little fellow!"
Silence.
"I missed you lots, Miss Ruby. When Saturday came I said to mamma: 'How I miss that girl! Only one month she's been with us, but how I miss that girl!' Oh—eh, Miss Ruby!"
Miss Cohn adjusted a pair of tissue-paper sleevelets and smoothed her smooth tan hips as if she would erase them entirely; then she looked up at him delicately, and for the instant the pink aura of her hair and the rise and fall of her too high bosom gave her some of the fleshly beauty of a Flora.
"Like you had time to think of me! I bet the Washeim girl was in every other day for a pair of—"
"Now, Miss Ruby, you—"
"'Sh! There's some one out front. It's that cashier from Truman's grocery. You finish unpacking that case, Mr. Ginsburg. I'll wait on her. I bet she wants tango slippers."