“Haven’t we been keeping you in luxury?” said O’Leary, arousing himself.
“Well, you’re a good bunch,” said Belle, relaxing a little, “but what I said goes. You’re a fine lithograph of ambition, you are—wallowing around like a lot of yellow dogs. Why don’t you get up and work?”
“Where’s Pansy?” said Tootles, to divert the attack.
“Out cooing with Drinkwater, I guess,” said Belle, who flounced off with this parting stab. “You don’t think she takes you seriously, do you? Why, you couldn’t support a canary!”
“Damn women, anyhow!” said Tootles, who winced perceptibly. “That’s what money does for you. They only come into your life to help you spend it, and then they make you miserable. Curse every one of them! Curse them one and all!”
“But curse Belle Shaler first,” said Flick.
“All except Millie,” said O’Leary, smiling.
“Well, except Millie.”
But, to their surprise, the girl, having finished what might be called her dust-survey, approached them and blurted out: