"Oh!" said Florinda, in a low voice.
"We'll get some more claret," observed Hawker musingly.

"And some cognac for the coffee.

And some cigarettes.

Do you think of anything more, Splutter ?" As they came from the shop of the illustrious purveyors of potato salad in Second Avenue, Florinda cried anxiously, "Here, Billie, you let me carry that!" "What infernal nonsense!" said Hawker, flushing.

"Certainly not!" "Well," protested Florinda, "it might soil your gloves somehow." "In heaven's name, what if it does?
Say, young woman, do you think I am one of these cholly boys ?" "No, Billie; but then, you know----" "Well, if you don't take me for some kind of a Willie, give us peace on this blasted glove business!" "I didn't mean----" "Well, you've been intimating that I've got the only pair of gray gloves in the universe, but you are wrong.