"You'd shove over the Goddess of Liberty if you thought she had her foot
on a meal ticket."

"Yes; and if I busted her, you could build a new one on the lunch money
you've saved in your time."

"Waldorf! You've got a fine chance with Minneapolis. You mean the
Automat, and two spoons for the ice-cream."

Miss Delehanty adjusted a highly eccentric hat, a small green velvet,
outrageously tilted off the rear of its _bandeau_, and a wide black
streamer flowing down over one shoulder. It was the match to the
explosive effect of the _trotteur_ gown. She was Fashion's humoresque,
except that Fashion has no sense of humor. Very presently Minneapolis
would appraise her at two hundred and seventy-five as is. Miss Delehanty
herself came cheaper.

"Say, Hattie, don't let being an old man's darling go to your head. The
grandchildren may issue an injunction."

A flare of crimson rushed immediately over Miss Becker's face, spreading
down into her neck.

"You let him alone! He's a darn sight better than anything I've seen you
girls picking for yourselves. You never met a man in your life whose
name wasn't Johnnie. You couldn't land a John in a million years."

Miss Delehanty raised her face from over a shoe-buckle. A stare began to
set in, as obviously innocent as a small boy's between spitballs.