After a drink at the bar the two watched the faro games awhile. Then Laguerre captured a good-looking brunette and whirled with her into a wild waltz. Loudon singled out a plump little blonde in a short red skirt and a shockingly inadequate waist and invited her to drink with him.
"I seen yuh this mornin'," she confided, planting both elbows on the table. "Yuh shore was packin' a awful load. I wondered how yuh walked at all."
"Oh, I can always walk," said Loudon, modestly. "Liquor never does affect my legs none—only my head an' my arms."
"Different here, dearie. When I'm full it hits me all over. I just go blah. Yuh got to carry me. I can't walk nohow. But I don't tank up much. Bill Archer don't like it. Say, honey, what djuh say to a dance? Don't yuh feel like a waltz or somethin'?"
"I'd rather sit here an' talk to yuh. Besides, my ankle's strained some. Dancin' won't do it no good."
"That's right. Well, buy me another drink then. I want to get forty checks to-night if I can."
"Help yoreself. The bridle's off to you, Mary Jane."
"Call me Clarice. That's my name. Ain't it got a real refined sound? I got it out of a book. The herowine was called that. She drowned herself. Gee, I cried over that book! Read it six times, too. Here's luck, stranger."
"An' lots of it, Ethel. Have another."
"Just for that yuh don't have to call me Clarice. Yuh can call me anythin' yuh like 'cept Maggie. A floozie named that stole ninety-five dollars an' four bits an' a gold watch offen me once. I ain't liked the name since. Well, drown sorrow."