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 The telephone rang, and the princess' arm darted into a little silk and brocade kennel. Despite her many years of residence in the country, she spoke the weirdest pig-latin French Grover had yet heard. Her complete lack of embarrassment about it was refreshing. "Non," she was screaming into the mouthpiece, "vous viens voir moi first."

"Miaow!" she said, when that was over. "Last year she lands here broke and begs me to put her up for a week. At the end of three days she's so drunk she tries to climb the wall and get aboard a ship in a picture hanging over the bed."

With a vigorous gesture Floss lighted herself a cigarette and gave her hair a final fluffing, while the cold afternoon sunlight picked out the facets in her diamond bracelets. On a sudden impulse she reached for the empty cigarette case on the dressing table and handed it to Grover.

"You can have that, honey—and for no reason at all."

"For the love of Mike!" he cried. "Are you vamping me?"

To his surprise Floss looked shocked.

"It's very sweet of you," he quickly corrected himself, "but why should I have it?"

"Oh, for heaven's sake, if it's going to be a moral issue, don't take it," cried Floss. "I just thought you'd: like one. It's for your blues," she added, going into the next room to change her peignoir for an out—of