But after he threatened to take poison at the luncheon table, my husband
thought it too hard on my nerves. I began to get so thin that my veils
didn't fit; and George sent the man home to his mother, at our expense.
At the present moment a soldier boy on leave--a Casino pet, whom all the
ladies love and lend money to, and give good advice to, and even the
croupiers are quite silly about, though he roars at them when he
loses--is hinting to visit us, so that I may undertake the saving of
his soul, and incidentally what money he has left. But he carries a nice
new revolver, and shows it to the prettiest ladies when they are
sympathizing the most earnestly. And he has _no_ mother to whom we can
send him, if he attempts to add his pistol to our luncheon menu. Do, do
save us from the Casino pet, dear Miss Grant. I've been holding an awful
aunt of George's over the young man's head, saying she may arrive at any
minute. But you know how things you fib about do have a way of
happening, as a punishment, and I feel she may drop down on us if the
room isn't occupied."
They all laughed, even the chaplain, whom Mrs. Winter evidently
delighted in trying to shock. "I should like Miss Grant to be with you,"
Vanno said; and this--if she had not guessed already--would have been
enough, Rose thought, "to give the show away." "I should like her to go
to you at once, since you are so kind."
"Kind to ourselves!" Rose smiled. "Will you come, Miss Grant?"
Mary hesitated.
Pages:
360
361
362
363
364
365
366
367
368
369
370
371
372
373
374
375
376
377
378
379
380
381
382
383
384