"Say, how would I meet them, then? Oh, I manage them all right—after! That's where their little surprise comes in!"
And she began to tell of the time when she had flirted with two well-known club men at the Horse Show, men who were dying to speak to her, but were afraid on account of the presence of curious others. But, in passing near them, they had slipped their cards into her pocket. Of course, she had not written them—she had met them by chance afterward at a restaurant; but she had not been offended by their advance. They were of her steady acquaintance now.
But Doré's incursion into this curious society brought her small amusement. She grew tired quickly of these too easily read admirers. Then after what she had known, they were all second-chop. The company of Estelle Monks interested her more. Since the morning she had surprised her in the office of the Free Press, her curiosity had been stirred to further investigation. Estelle Monks herself forestalled her. She came into her rooms suddenly one morning, and plumping down, abruptly inquired:
"Do me a favor, Dodo?"
"Any!"
"Don't mention to Mr. Harrigan Blood that I inhabit these quarters!"
Doré, puzzled, a little embarrassed too, moved away, saying:
"What do you mean? Why not?"
"No offense to you, bless you!" said Estelle Monks, with a curious smile. "You see, I'm on the paper. He—well, he wouldn't quite relish the idea of tripping over me when he turns up with a bunch of flowers."
"You exaggerate," said Doré nervously. "Harrigan Blood's not really interested."