"Why," he goes on, "they're almost exactly like those of—of Lucy's; the same simple lines, the same material and everything."
"Classy stuff," says I. "Come along, though. The picture place is next door, upstairs."
Peyton still stands there gawpin'. "Such a coincidence," he's murmurin'. "I wonder, Torchy, if one could find out about how much they ask for such things in a place like this."
"Easiest thing in the world," says I. "Just blow in and get 'em to give you quotations."
"Oh, but I wouldn't dare do that," says he. "It would seem so—so——"
"Not at all," says I. "As it happens, this joint is one where Vee does more or less shoppin', when she's feelin' flush, and I've often been with her. If you're curious we'll breeze in and get their prices."
Peyton was right there with the curiosity, too. And the lady vamp with the long string of beads danglin' from her neck didn't seem to think it odd for us to be interested in checked ginghams.
"Ah, yes-s-s!" says she, throwin' open the back doors of the show window. "Zey are great bargains, those. Marked down but las' week. Thees wan—m-m-m-m—only $68; but wiz ze hat also, $93."
And the gasp that gets out of Peyton sounds like openin' an airbrake.
"Nine-ty three dollars!" says he. "For a simple little thing like that? Why, that seems to be rather exorbitant!"