"I was going to tell you that night, Goldie, that there was only one girl—one girl for me—and—"
"Yeh; and while we were sittin' there gigglin' and screechin' at June-bugs poor Addie was provin' that a street-car fender has got it all over a mangling-machine."
"Yes; it's like she says about herself—she was payin' her initiation fee for life membership into the Society of Cripples with a perfectly good hip and a bit of spine."
"Poor Addie! Gawd, how she loved to dance! She used to spend every noon-hour eatin' marshmallows and learning me new steps."
The wind soughed in their ears, and Goldie's skirts blew backward like sails.
"You haven't got a better friend than Addie right now, girlie! She always says our little flat is yours. The three of us, Goldie—the three of us could—"
"It's swell for a girl that ain't got none of her own blood to have a friend like that. Swell, lemme tell you!"
"Goldie!"
"Yes."
"It's like I said—I've never talked right out before, but I got a feelin' you're slippin' away from me like a eel, girlie. You know—aw, you know I ain't much on the elocution stuff; but if it wasn't for Addie and her accident right now—I'd ask you outright—I would. You know what I mean!"