take very hard. However, Virgie came back and acquired the studio
habit. And you can't live for long in a studio, you know, without
getting the itch to see yourself in print. That's what brought Virgie
to me. And now! Well, now I have to go to Virgie."

"Ain't as chummy with him as you was, I take it?" says I.

Whity shrugs his shoulders disgusted. "The saphead!" says he. "Just
because we slipped up on a few stock deals he got cold feet. I haven't
seen him for a year. I wonder how he'll take it? But you mentioned a
Cousin Inez, didn't you?"

I gives Whity a hasty sketch of the piece, mentionin' no more names,
but suggestin' that Virgie stood to connect with an overgrown widow's
mite if there wa'n't any sudden interference.

"Ha!" says Whity, speakin' tragic through his teeth. "An idea! He's
put the spell on a rich widow, has he? Now if I could only manage to
queer this autumn leaf romance it would even up for the laceration of
pride that I see coming my way tonight. Describe the fair one."

"I could point her out if you could smuggle me in," I suggests.

"A cinch!" says he. "You're Barry of the City Press. Here, stick some
copy paper in your pocket. Take a few notes, that's all."

"It's a fierce disguise to put on," says I; "but I guess I can stand it
for an evenin'."

So about eight-thirty we meets again, and' proceeds to hunt up this