"Dear old girl," she said, "don't you remember that I always make my own rules ?" "I know you do, but you can't tell me that Martin wants to go by them--or that he'll be able to remain a knight long, while you're going by one set and he's keen to go by another?
Where will it end ?" "End?
But why drag in the end when Martin and I are only at the beginning ?" Alice sat down again and bent forward and caught up Joan's unoccupied hand.

"Listen, dear," she said with more than characteristic earnestness.

"Last night I went with the Merrills to the Ziegfeld Follies, and I saw Martin there with a little white-faced girl with red lips and the golden hair that comes out of a bottle." "Good old Martin!" said Joan.

"The devil you did!" "Doesn't that give you a jar ?" "Good heavens, no! If you'd peeked into the One-o'clock Club this morning at half past two, you would have seen me with a white-faced man with a red mustache and a kink in his hair that comes from a hot iron.
Martin and I are young and giddy, and we're on the round-about, and we're hitting it up.

Who cares ?" There was a little silence--and then Alice drew back, shaking her pretty neat head.