who I was, mind you, but that made no difference to her or Pop Tozier.
From then on there wasn't anything in Sand Spur too good for me. And
now--but where is she?"

Honest, in all I'd seen of him at the Corrugated, I'd never known
Warrie Mason to act so much like a live one. There was no stopping
him. Before I could register any more protests, he'd hauled Valentina
out of the cab, taken her by the arm, and was steerin' her slam into
the middle of the Tarleton's Looie Cans dinin'-room. The haughty head
waiter lets out one gasp and steadies himself against a marble pillar.
As for Miss Prentice, she takes one look at what Warrie is towin' in,
and goes pink in the ears. Then she stiffens, from the jaws down.

But Warrie don't seem to be wise to the fact that he's pullin' anything
odd. He acts just as natural as if he'd picked up one of the younger
set.

"Gladys," says he, "this is Valentina Tozier, that I've told you so
much about. Valentina, I want you to know Miss Prentice."

"Ah!" says Gladys, a bit choky and archin' her eyebrows sarcastic.
"I--I recall the name."

You'd 'most thought Valentina would have been fussed to flinders about
then; but, beyond actin' a little dazed, she don't show it. She lets a
couple of French waiters peel off the faded ulster and the gray
sweater, and, believe me, when the whole of that polka-dot costume is
revealed she's some conspicuous. For a second it looked like Gladys
was goin' to freeze with horror; but, after givin' Valentina the
once-over, she just lifts her shoulders a trifle and indulges in a