“Naw, that’s all right. But this law-abidin’ flock make me tired. Too many females pokin’ around—just too many,” muttered Henry disgustedly, taking out his watch, and winding the stem thoughtfully, tilting his head to one side in an attitude of alertness. The hour was growing late.
Doris shrank back, but there was no need. They were entirely unaware of her nearness.
Ronald Trent laughed suggestively. This made Doris’s cheeks burn with embarrassment as he said, “Gee, that bunch of flowers smell good to me! I love the ladies, especially the pretty girlies, Henry. I’m not so hard to be friends with,” the egotist mused. “I’m a swell dresser, too, everything the dames like.”
Henry envied him his position with the Misses Gates, it was plain to be seen, as he accepted the statement with a nod of approval.
There was a pause as Ronald Trent took out a wallet and looked over its contents.
Doris waited in the dark hallway, unable to see the contents.
“The old dames are shutting down a bit,” Ronald went on. “I had to play up to ’em tonight and got only two hundred at that.”
“Too bad the old gals got that letter off to the red-head. That was one you missed, Trent.”
This reference to her made Doris decide to creep a step or two nearer. She had heard enough to convince her that Henry and Ronald were conspiring against Azalea and Iris, the two trusting, flower-like ladies!
She strained forward to catch more of the conversation.