“Have to be,” said Lily. “I always wash my little blouses; we do everything ourselves, don’t we, Glass-Eye? And, when I’m performing, I have two pairs of tights to wash a day!”
“Two pairs of tights!”
“Why, of course, matinée and night! You have no idea, Jimmy ... the nickel ... when I sit on the handle-bar, it makes a great mark ... just here, look!”
And she laughed at Jimmy over her shoulder while she pointed to the place ... and then blushed, like a frolicsome child that has been found out and is, oh, so sorry!
“Every one’s got to keep to his own dressing-room!” said Jimmy, feeling very uncomfortable, to the man with the green eyes. “You can’t stay here; it’s against the rules!”
“We’re doing no harm, please, Mr. Jimmy,” retorted Lily, sitting down beside the impersonator and slipping her arm round his waist.
“Poor Jimmy!” said the impersonator, when the other had left the room in a rage. “He’s jealous, isn’t he, darling?”
“He jealous? Then why doesn’t he say so? One can’t guess a thing like that! When you’re a man, you speak out!”
And the architect appeared in his turn, he, too, running from one end of the theater to the other. He wore a bandage over one eye:
“Knocked up against a beam ... a little accident. Have you seen Jimmy?”