"Do you know him?" said Helen, smiling shyly. This was an opening for conversation, and she met it eagerly. The other girl had a friendly and engaging manner, which obviously included all the world.
"Sure I do," she answered, though there was uncertainty under the round tones. She ran a slim forefinger through the blond curl that lay against her neck, smiling at Helen with a display of even, white teeth. Helen thought of pictures on magazine covers. It must be wonderful to be as pretty as that, she thought wistfully. "Who's he wiring to?"
Helen passed the message across the low railing that separated the offices. She noticed the shining of the girl's fingernail as she ran it along the lines.
"Well, what do you know about that? He was giving me a song and dance about being Judge Kennedy's son. You never can tell about men," she commented sagely, returning the telegram. "Sometimes they tell you the absolute truth."
A childlike quality made her sophistication merely piquant. Her comments on the passing guests fascinated Helen, and an occasional phrase revealed glimpses of a world of gaiety in which she seemed to flutter continually, like a butterfly in the sunshine. She worked, it appeared, only at irregular intervals.
"Momma supports me, of course on her alimony. Papa certainly treated her rotten, but his money's perfectly good," she said artlessly. Her frankness also was childlike, and her calm acceptance of the situation made it necessary to regard it as commonplace. Helen, in self-defense, could not be shocked.
"She's lot of fun, momma is. Just loves a good time. She's out dancing now. Gee! I wish I was! I'm just crazy about dancing, aren't you? Listen to that music! All I want is just to dance all night long. That's what I really love."
"Do you ever—often, I mean—do it? Dance all night long?" Helen asked, wide-eyed.
"Only once a night." She laughed. "About five nights a week."
Helen thought her entertaining, and warmed to her beauty and charm. In an hour she was asking Helen to call her Louise, and although she made no attempt to conceal her astonishment at the barrenness of Helen's life, her generous desire to share her own good times took the sting from her pity. Why, Helen didn't know the city at all, she cried, and Helen could only assent. They must go out to some of the cafés together; they must have tea at Techau's; Helen must come to dinner and meet momma. Louise jumbled a dozen plans together in a rush of friendliness. It was plain that she was genuinely touched in her butterfly heart by Helen's loneliness.