They scrambled, and while they scrambled and she danced, she bent to her right knee, and off came a blue garter, and away that went, too.
“Share and share alike, old dears.”
This time she had the pit as well.
“My word. She’s a corker, eh?”
“I should say so.”
“Quite right, Augustus,” she cried. “There isn’t a fire here, but I’m hot enough to start one. I love my molten lava, but what price Gina?”
They chuckled. They cheered. They chi-iked.
“Gaw—fancy a kid like that.... If she was a kid of mine I’d learn ’er something.”
In the vaudeville phrase, she had got ’em with both hands.
The lights died down again. The turmoil was confined to the gallery. A lone chucker-out implored them to observe that everything was all right and “Order, please, for the artiste.” The Maxixe swallowed him up.