Modesty is gallantry's
crowning grace. But you _must_ accompany us. My heart is set upon it.
Eleanor darling, here's your wrap. Come, Quinby, my boy!" And the dynamic
little gentleman hooked an arm through each of theirs and, in spite of
their protests, bore them triumphantly down the stairs and off to the
party.
It was not until they had boarded a crowded downtown car and found
themselves wedged in the aisle that Quin and Eleanor managed to have
another word alone.
"It's a shame we had to come!" she pouted, looking up at him from under a
tilted hat-brim that supported three dangling cherries.
"Where are we going?" he asked, thrilled by the discovery that her lips
and the cherries matched.
"To a studio party down in Washington Square. Papa Claude is trying to
get Estelle Linton to play the lead in 'Phantom Love.' You always meet
all sorts of freaks at her parties."
"I didn't come to New York to meet freaks."
"What did you come for?"
"Shall I tell you?"
"Of course--why not?"
"You want to know? Right now?"
He was looking at her with an expression that was never intended to be
worn in a public conveyance, and the thin-faced Polish woman on whose
toes they were all but standing looked at them with such lively
comprehension that Eleanor felt called upon to assume her most haughty
and dignified manner for the rest of the way.
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