"You won't let her—fire me? I need work, I do," quavered Mrs. Croft.
"Now, now. Don't mind her temper. But you really ought to see to her gloves when—"
"I hope I drop dead this minute if I didn't send 'em out the very day she told me."
"Croft, you're fibbing. You know Lilas is excitable."
"Excitable?" Croft wiped her eyes with a corner of her apron. "Is that what you call it? How ever you can bear her I don't see, and you a nice girl. She won't do you no good, Miss Knight."
"Oh, pshaw! She was nervous."
"I should think she would be. I'll be glad if her millionaire takes her out of the business, like she thinks he will. Poor man! He's laying up trouble for himself, that he is. She'll land him in the divorce court—with her flesh-light photographs."
Lorelei swung around from her mirror. "What do you mean?"
"Oh, I heard her and that Jew—I beg pardon, Miss Knight. You ain't a
Jew, are you?"
"What about the flash-lights?"