“But—but you forget,” he stammered. “It is only for occasional things; recitals, Shakespeare, the very unusual affairs!”
“And this,” said Solomon, clapping him on the back, “This, my boy, will be the most unusual of all! We may remain as long as we are good. And we shall be good forever.
“But I promised to bring these ladies back promptly.” He sprang into action. “Come! Coats on! And let’s be away.”
Though the ladies of the Junior Ballet were rushed into coats and fairly pushed down the stairs to waiting taxis, not one of them failed to pause and give Jeanne a hug and a smile or a whispered word of congratulation.
“How different!” she thought as a great lump came into her throat. “How very different from Eve and her circle!”
“Here!” Solomon turned from hurrying the girls away. “This will act as a binder. Be here to-morrow at nine.” He thrust something into Angelo’s hand.
Angelo opened his hand after a time and spread out five fifty dollar bills.
“One for you, and you, and you, and you,” he chanted as he dealt them out, finally cramming one into his own pocket.
“Sit down,” he invited. “This is an hour for silent thanksgiving.”
“And prayer,” the devout French girl murmured softly.