“How do I know where it is?” he protested. “As long as you haven’t got it, why do you care where it is?” He heard the door from the hall open and, turning, saw Vera. He appealed to her. “Vera,” he cried, “You’ll loan me two dollars? I stand to win sixty. I’ll give you thirty.”
Vera looked inquiringly at Mabel. “What is it, Mabel,” she asked, “a hand book?”
Mrs. Vance nodded guiltily.
“Mannie!” exclaimed Vera gently but reproachfully, “I told you I wouldn’t loan you any more money till you paid Mabel what you’ve borrowed.”
“How can I pay Mabel what I borrowed,” demanded Mannie, “if I can’t borrow the money from you to pay her? Only two dollars, Vera!”
Vera nodded to Mabel.
Mabel, at the phone, called, “Two dollars on Pompadour—to—win—for Mannie Day,” and rang off.
“That makes thirty for you,” exclaimed Mannie enthusiastically, “and twenty I owe to Mabel, and that leaves me ten.”
Mrs. Vance, no longer occupied in the whirlpool of speculation, for the first time observed that Vera had changed her matronly robe of black lace for a short white skirt and a white shirtwaist. She noted also that there was a change in Vera’s face and manner. She gave an impression of nervous eagerness, of unrest. Her smile seemed more appealing, wistful, girlish. She looked like a child of fourteen.
But Mabel was concerned more especially with the robe of virgin white.