wish I had a brooch."

"A brooch?"

"I'd give it to you. Your dress needs a brooch, an old gold brooch at
the bosom, just a glint there to balance your eyes."

Cissie flushed happily, and made the feminine movement of concealing the
V-shaped opening at her throat.

"It's a pleasure to doll up for a man like you, Peter. You see a girl's
good points--if she has any," she tacked on demurely.

"Oh, just any man--"

"Don't think it! Don't think it!" waved down Cissie, humorously.

"But, Cissie, how is it possible--"

"Just blind." Cissie rippled into a boarding-school laugh. "I could wear
the whole rue del Opera here in Niggertown, and nobody would ever see it
but you."

Cissie was moving toward the door. Peter tried to detain her. He enjoyed
the implication of Tump Pack's stupidity, in their badinage, but she
would not stay. He was finally reduced to thanking her for her present,
then stood guard as she tripped out into the grimy street. In the
sunshine her glossy black hair and canary dress looked as trim and
brilliant as the plumage of a chaffinch.