"You haven't invited me yet," she said, pouting. "Do you think I don't eat or drink?"
"Goddesses and sylphs live on nectar and ambrosia, you know."
"Now you're talking, old dear. But let me give you a tip. Those dishes don't figure on the menu of a cheap Turkish restaurant in the gas house district. I do believe you can get them at the Plaza or the Ritz, though."
Claude's reply to this hint was to launch into caresses so daring that Mazie took alarm. She was in the habit of giving much less than she received, and she had not as yet received very much from Claude. Therefore she wriggled, with some difficulty, out of his grasp. Perhaps she also desired to anticipate the entrance of her chum. At any rate, Cornelia just then opened the door on the right.
III
"Time I came in," she remarked; glancing significantly from one to the other.
"Yes," replied Mazie, looking the picture of wounded innocence. "Since Claude came back from the firing line in France—or was it gay Paree?—liberty and license look alike to him. All the same, my beamish boy, there's a boundary between the two."
"Boundaries exist only to be extended," chanted Claude, delighted with his own audacity.
"I don't know which of you is the more incorrigible flirt," said Cornelia, half in reproach.
"Listen to the pot calling the kettle black," cried the "Follies" girl. "Somebody pass me a whiff of brandy to uplift me."