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 I shake its hand and say: ‘Well, well, Cyril, how’s everything with you? And how are Joe and Jack and Jimmy and all the rest of the boys at home?’ Do you know how I used to put in my time the first few nights I was over here in London? I used to hang round Covent Garden with my head back, sniffing. The boys that mess about with the flowers there used to stub their toes on me so often that they got to look on me as part of the scenery.”

“That’s where we ought to have been last night.”

“We'd have had a better time. Say, George, did you see the awful mistake on nature’s part that Babe Sinclair showed up with toward the middle of the proceedings? You must have noticed him, because he took up more room than any one man was entitled to. His name was Spenser Gray.”

George recalled having been introduced to a fat man of his own age who answered to that name.

“It’s a darned shame,” said Billie indignantly. “Babe is only a kid. This is the first show she’s been in. And I happen to know there’s an awfully nice boy over in New York crazy to marry her. And I’m certain this gink is giving her a raw deal. He tried to get hold of me about a week ago, but I turned him down hard; and I suppose he thinks Babe is easier. And it’s no good talking to her; she thinks he’s wonderful. That’s another kick I have against the show business. It seems to make girls such darned chumps! Well, I wonder how much longer Mr. Arbuckle is going to be retrieving my mail. What ho within there, Fatty?”

Mac came out, apologetic, carrying letters.

“Sorry, miss. By an oversight I put you among the G’s.”

“All’s well that ends well. ‘Put me among the G’s.’