"But she's always doing some freakish thing to get into the newspapers. Next thing you know, Buzzy'll have his name in the paper as taking a chimpanzee out to dinner, or being toastmaster at a banquet for French poodles. She delights in it, just because it makes people sit up and gasp. That sliding down the banister party she gave at her coming-out party last spring must have been a ripper. Four or five old ladies who couldn't slide down a haystack got mad and went home. They've cut her since then."
"Coming-out party?" queried the Westerner. "I thought you said she was a widow."
"She is. It was when she came out of mourning."
"I think I'd like to know her," mused the Westerner, his eyes lighting up.
"She's very expensive," murmured the drawler, who also would have enjoyed an acquaintanceship.
For a few minutes they all seemed to be interested in their own thoughts. Finally a youth in a lavender waistcoat and a gray dinner jacket broke the silence.
"Gimme a cigaret, Bob."
"Don't you ever buy cigarets, Sticky?" growled the one addressed, reluctantly extending his case.
"Sticky" ignored the question. "I wonder if Buzzy's got it into his head to get married," he said reflectively.
"She's rich enough," remarked the drawler.