giggling. Babbitt felt that he had encountered something involved
and harmful. Paul was talking with the rapt eagerness of a man who is
telling his troubles. He was concentrated on the woman's faded eyes.
Once he held her hand and once, blind to the other guests, he puckered
his lips as though he was pretending to kiss her. Babbitt had so strong
an impulse to go to Paul that he could feel his body uncoiling, his
shoulders moving, but he felt, desperately, that he must be diplomatic,
and not till he saw Paul paying the check did he bluster to the
piano-salesman, "By golly-friend of mine over there--'scuse me
second--just say hello to him."

He touched Paul's shoulder, and cried, "Well, when did you hit town?"

Paul glared up at him, face hardening. "Oh, hello, George. Thought you'd
gone back to Zenith." He did not introduce his companion. Babbitt peeped
at her. She was a flabbily pretty, weakly flirtatious woman of forty-two
or three, in an atrocious flowery hat. Her rouging was thorough but
unskilful.

"Where you staying, Paulibus?"

The woman turned, yawned, examined her nails. She seemed accustomed to
not being introduced.

Paul grumbled, "Campbell Inn, on the South Side."

"Alone?" It sounded insinuating.

"Yes! Unfortunately!" Furiously Paul turned toward the woman, smiling
with a fondness sickening to Babbitt. "May! Want to introduce you. Mrs.