Page:Our Little Girl (1923).pdf/82

 cloth. The spotlight went out again. The applause continued. The orchestra started playing a fox-trot. The room was lit brilliantly. The negress was gone. A couple started dancing. The entertainment was over.

Dorothy looked up at Arnold.

“It must be late,” she said.

She was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable. What would happen at the two A. M. show?

Arnold understood.

“All right.”

He summoned the waiter and paid the check.

As he made his way out of the room with Dorothy the male Siamese approached him and slapped him heartily on the back.

“Hot dog, brother!” he cried. “ You sure let that li'l black girl slip. Say, brother, if she shook that way in front of me—say, brother—that sure was some shaking— if it was me, brother-———”

Arnold hurried to the cloakroom.

In the taxicab he said nothing. His hand sought Dorothy’s.

“Thank you so much!” she said.

Arnold put his arm about her. She swung free.

“Don’t, Arnold,” she said softly. “I don’t like it.”

“It’s nothing,” he urged.

“T don’t like it,” she repeated mildly.

He dropped his arm.

“Oh, well-"

Thank you so much, Arnold,” she said; “it’s just that——”

“Somebody else?” inquired Arnold.

“Nonsense,” she laughed. We can be just as good friends without that, can’t we?”

Arnold kissed her hand.