“Me too,” Michael chimed in. “Unless stocks go up, or the Democratic party goes down, I’ll be broke soon. How about a game of pool?”
“I’d love to,” Nora said. “I’ve been dying to learn.”
“That’ll make it a nice interesting game,” Monty commented. He knew he could never make a decent shot until the confounded necklace was miles away.
“Then there’s nothing else to do but dance,” Alice decreed. “Come, Nora.”
“No,” Michael cried, “I’ll play pool or auction or poker, I’ll sit or talk or sing, but I’m hanged if I hesitate and get lost, or maxixe!”
Alice shook her head mournfully. “Ah, Michael,” she said, “if you were only as light-footed as you are light-headed, what a partner you’d make. We are going to dance anyway.”
Ethel hesitated at the doorway. “Aren’t you dancing or playing pool, Mr. Denby?”
“In just a moment,” he said. “First I have a word to say to Monty.”
“I understand,” she returned. “Man’s god—business! Men use that excuse over the very littlest things sometimes.”
“But this is a big thing,” he asserted; “a two hundred thousand dollar proposition, so we’re naturally a bit anxious.”