Page:Nigger Heaven (1926).pdf/246

 Never been to the Winter Palace! But, boy, you must come, you must come as my guest.

I'd love to.

Through her cloak, under the leopard-skin robe, he was conscious of her nearness. The physical vitality of the woman was electric.

What's become of that funny girl you were with the night I met you—Mary what's her name?

She's all right, I guess. I don't see her.

Snooty, little prig, I thought. Ugh! I detest the type. They've done nothing—always been protected and sheltered—and they're so damn superior.

This statement of the case exactly coincided with Byron's present opinion, but curiously he was annoyed to hear it from Lasca's lips.

She's all right, I guess. I don't see her, he repeated dully.

Let's forget about her, Lasca said, as she drew his hand into hers. She was staring squarely into his eyes and he observed, to his amazement, that her own lustrous eyes were wet with tears.

God, but you're wonderful! he cried, returning the pressure of her fingers.

She immediately withdrew her hand, at the same time shifting the position of her leg.

Atlantic City is lovely, she remarked in a cold, distant tone. I have so many friends there.

Do you like it as well as New York?

Oh, I don't care where I am, or, very often, with whom. I find what I want everywhere.