“And some perfume.” She paused again. “That great bottle cut like a diamond. I love bottles, the fantastic sort.
“And shoes!” She was a veritable Cinderella dreaming dreams that night. “Shoes! There are some darling ones. Golden shoes to match the nile-green dress. And only forty dollars. Think of it!”
Yes, she was a joyous little Cinderella. But all her joy vanished on the instant.
Of a sudden three very much over-dressed young men swooped down upon her.
“Lorena! Lorena LeMar!” they shouted in a chorus.
“And now, such a night as we shall make of it!”
Jeanne was pleased and frightened at one and the same time; pleased that she had copied the LeMar manner so well that her friends were thoroughly deceived; frightened at being alone at such a time.
“Oh, no you won’t!” She tried in vain to steady her voice. “I—I’m doing a picture; on the water-wagon and all that, till it’s finished.”
“Water-wagon! Water-wagon!” they shouted in derision, crowding about her. “That’s a good one! A real wise crack!”
Of a sudden the little French girl’s world whirled about her. When it steadied she happened to see, by the most fortunate chance in the world, a familiar figure standing by the corner of a skyscraper.