“Oh ki!” Miami laughed delightedly, indicating a foppish, pretty youth, holding in a restive little horse dancing away with him.
Rubbing herself repeatedly, as yet embarrassed by the novelty of her clothes, Edna could only gasp.
“...,” she jabbered, pointing at some flaunting belles in great evening hats and falling hair.
“All dat fine,” Miami murmured, staring in wonderment around.
Dominating the city soared the Opera House, uplifting a big, naked man, all gilt, who was being bitten, or mauled, so it seemed, by a pack of wild animals carved of stone, while near by were the University, and the Cathedral with its low white dome crowned by moss-green tiles.
Making towards it, encouraged by the Vesper bell, some young girls, in muslin masks, followed by a retinue of bustling nuns, were running the gauntlet of the profligates that clustered on the curb.
“Oh, Jesus honey!” Edna cooed, scratching herself in an ecstasy of delight.
“Fo’ shame, Chile, to act so unladylike; if any gen’leman look up he t’ink you make a wicked sign,” Mrs. Mouth cautioned, stepping out upon the balcony from the sitting-room behind.
Inhaling a bottle of sal volatile, to dispel de megrims, she was looking dignified in a décolleté of smoke-blue tulle.
“Nebba do dat in S’ciety,” she added, placing a protecting arm around each of her girls.