“‘He’s the idol of me ’art,’” she sang, in gentle mimicry.
“Lucky dog,” he whispered, leering upon her. “And how trustful he is, leaving you here in town to face temptation alone while he hibernates in Tarrytown.”
“He trusts me,” she flashed.
“I am the original ‘trust buster,’” he laughed.
Nellie arose abruptly. She stretched her arms and yawned. The trio opposite gave over disputing about automobiles, and both men looked at their watches.
“Go home,” said Nellie. “I’m tired. We’ve got a rehearsal to-morrow.”
No one took offence. They understood her ways.
Fairfax gave her his light topcoat to hold while he slipped into it. She was vaguely surprised that he did not seek to employ the old trick of slipping an arm about her during the act. Somehow she felt a little bit more of respect for him.
“Don’t forget to-morrow night,” he said, softly, at the door. “Just the four of us, you know. I’ll come back for you after the play.” 47
“Remember, it has to be in the main restaurant,” she warned him. “I like to see the people.”