"First off," says I, "Crosby wants to get acquainted. If he has any hymen stuff up his sleeve, I expect you'd better hear that from him personally. The question now is, do you want to meet him?"
"Oh, I dunno," says Mame careless. "I guess I'll take a chance."
"Then forget that vanishing act of yours," says I, "and I'll run him in."
And, honest, as I slips out of the Maison Noir and beats it for my lunch, I felt like I'd done a day's work. What it would come to was by me. They was off my hands, anyway.
That couldn't have been over a week ago. And here only yesterday Crosby comes crashin' into the Corrugated general offices, pounds me enthusiastic on the back, and announces that I'm the best friend he's got in the world.
"Meanin', I expect," says I, "that Miss Stribble and you have been gettin' on?"
"Old man," says Crosby, his mild blue eyes sparklin', "she's a wonderful girl—wonderful! And within a week she's going to be Mrs. Crosby Rhodes. We start for home just as soon as the Maison Noir can turn out her trousseau; which is going to be some outfit, take it from me."
I hope I said something appropriate. If I didn't I expect Crosby was too excited to notice. Also that night I carried home the bulletin to Vee.
"There!" says Vee. "I just knew, the moment I saw her, that she wasn't at all as that horrid old man tried to make us believe."
"No," says I, "Mame's vamping was just practice stuff. A lot of it is like that, I expect."