"Well, he's one of those Los Angeles Kennedys. You know, old man was indicted for something awhile ago. Loads of money." Louise, dabbing on cold-cream, spoke in jerks. "His brother was the one that ran off with Cissy Leroy, and his wife shot her up. Don't you remember? It was in all the papers. I used to know Cissy, too. She was an awful good sport, really. Don't you love that big car of his?"
Helen did not answer. In her revulsion she felt that she was not at all interested in Gilbert Kennedy, and she had the sensation of being freed from a weight.
Momma, slipping a rustling gown over her head, spoke through the folds. "He's a live wire," she praised. She settled the straps over her shoulders, tossing a fond smile at Helen. "Hook me up, dearie? Yes, he's a live wire all right, and you've certainly got him coming."
A sudden thought chilled Helen to the finger-tips. She fumbled with the hooks.
"He isn't married, is he?"
"Married! Well, I should say not! What do you think I am?" momma demanded. "Do you think I'd steer you or Louise up against anything like that?" Her voice softened. "I know too well what unhappiness comes from some one taking another lady's husband away from his home and family, though he does pay the alimony regular as the day comes around, I will say that for him. I hope never to live to see the day my girl, or you either, does a thing like that." There was genuine emotion in her voice. Helen felt a rush of affectionate pity for her, and Louise, springing up, threw her bare arms around her mother.
"Don't you worry, angel momma! I see myself doing it!" she cried.
At such moments of warm-hearted sincerity Helen was fond of them both. She felt ashamed while she finished dressing. They were lovely to her, she thought, and they accepted people as they were, without sneaking little criticisms and feelings of superiority. She did not know what she thought about anything.
Her indecisions were cut short by the squawk of an automobile-horn beneath the windows. With last hasty slaps of powder-puffs and a snatching of gloves, they hurried down to meet Mr. Kennedy at the door, and again Helen felt his charm like a tangible current between them. Words choked in her throat, and she stood silent in a little whirlpool of greetings.
There were three indistinct figures already in the tonneau; a glowing cigar-end lighted a fat, jolly face, and two feminine voices greeted momma and Louise. Hesitating on the curb, Helen felt a warm, possessive hand close on her arm.