"Got to be."
Both girls laughed unaffectedly.
"I like you," said the dancer. "Do you mind if I get out of this cast-iron corset and into a kimono when we get home?"
"Have you a spare one?"
"Dozens; but they're not very clean."
"That's lovely. And let's make the tea weak."
"Oh, I can't drink anything strong! I'm an awful counterfeit."
"I'm beginning to think so. I—wonder if I'm dreaming."
The girls had much in common; they chattered continuously through the short ride, and when they alighted from the taxi-cab they disputed over the right to pay for it. When the guest was ushered into Adoree's apartment she received another surprise, for the place was neither elaborate nor showy. It consisted merely of two large, comfortable rooms overlooking a side-street lined with monotonous brown-stone boarding-houses which for the most part were inhabited by doctors, dressmakers, and semi-professional people.
A battered tea-kettle was set to boil over an absurd alcohol-stove that required expert assistance to maintain its equilibrium. Adoree flung out of her finery and donned a Japanese robe, offering another to Lorelei. A plate of limber crackers was unearthed from somewhere, also the disreputable remains of a box of marshmallows; and these latter Madamoiselle Demorest toasted on a hat-pin.