"You are, Leon—only—only, you don't know it."
"Don't you bring down too many beaus while I'm gone, either, Miss
Kantor!"
"I—won't, Leon."
Sotto voce to her: "Remember, Esther, while I'm gone, the royalties from the Discaphone records are yours. I want you to have them for pin-money and—maybe a dowry?"
She turned from him.
"Don't, Leon—don't—"
"I like him! Nice fellow, but too slow! Why, if I were in his shoes, I'd have popped long ago."
She smiled with her lashes dewy.
There entered then, in a violet-scented little whirl, Miss Gina Berg, rosy with the sting of a winter's night, and, as usual, swathed in the high-napped furs.
"Gina!"