“There, there, now!” said Oliver, laughing good-naturedly. “I brought my brother along so that you’d have to behave yourself.”
“I don’t care about your brother!” exclaimed the girl, without even giving him another glance. Then she held Oliver at arm’s length, and gazed into his face. “How can you be so cruel to me?” she asked.
“I told you I was busy,” said he, cheerfully. “And I gave you fair warning, didn’t I? How’s Toodles?”
“Oh, Toodles is in raptures,” said Rosalie. “She’s got a new fellow.” And then, her manner changing to one of merriment, she added: “Oh, Ollie! He gave her a diamond brooch! And she looks like a countess—she’s hoping for a chance to wear it in a part!”
“You’ve seen Toodles,” said Oliver, to his brother “She’s in ‘The Kaliph of Kamskatka’”.
“They’re going on the road next week,” said Rosalie. “And then I’ll be all alone.” She added, in a pleading voice: “Do, Ollie, be a good boy and take us out to-night. Think how long it’s been since I’ve seen you! Why, I’ve been so good I don’t know myself in the looking-glass. Please, Ollie!”
“All right,” said he, “maybe I will.”
“I’m not going to let you get away from me,” she cried. “I’ll come right over the footlights after you!”
“You’d better get dressed,” said Oliver. “You’ll be late.”
He pushed aside a tray with some glasses on it, and seated himself upon a trunk; and Montague stood in a corner and watched Rosalie, while she powdered and painted herself, and put on an airy summer dress, and poured out a flood of gossip about “Toodles” and “Flossie” and “Grace” and some others. A few minutes later came a stentorian voice in the hallway: “Second act!” There were more embraces, and then Ollie brushed the powder from his coat, and went away laughing.