turban effect with a tall plume stickin' straight up from the front of
it. She's one of these big, full-curved, golden brunettes, with long
jet danglers in her ears and all the haughty airs of a grand opera
star. I didn't dream it was the one we was lookin' for until I sees
Ira straighten up and step out to meet her.

"Nellie," says he, sort of choky and pleadin'.

It's a misfire, though; for just then she's turned to finish some
remark to a fat old sport with flat ears and bags under his eyes that's
followin' close behind. So it ain't until she's within a few feet of
Higgins that she sees him at all. Then she stares at him sort of
doubtful, like she could hardly believe her eyes.

"Nellie," he begins again, "I've been wanting to tell you how it was
that----"

"You!" she breaks in. And with that she throws her head back and
laughs. It wa'n't what you might call a pleasant laugh, either. It
sounds cold and hard and bitter.

That's the extent of the reunion too. She's still laughin' as she
brushes by him and lets the old sport help her into the taxi; and a
second later we're left standin' there at the edge of the curb with
another taxi rollin' up in front of us. I notices that Ira's holdin'
something in his hand that he's starin' at foolish. It's the satin box
with the seventeen-fifty ring in it.

"Well," says I, as we steps back, "returns all in, ain't they?"