"Gad," he said, dallying backward on his heels, his thumbs in the arm-circles of his waistcoat, and regarding the shining silver figure--"Gad, girl, you're all right." Della drew back against the dressing-table and twirled the rings on her fingers. "I--I got bad news, Hy. I can't go to-night. Here, read for yourself." He reached for the paper, passing Ysobel as if she belonged to the trappings of the room. "I--I can't--go to-night, Hy." He read with the sharp eyes of a gray hawk of the world, and drew his coat together in a gesture of buttoning up. "Don't pull any of that stuff on me, Beauty. Just because the old devil you've been tellin' me about--" "Oh--you--you--" "Them ain't real tears--you'd be laughin' in your sleeve if you had any on. Come on; step lively, Beauty. I ain't givin' this blow-out to be made a fool out of. Give her a daub of color there, Du Prez." "Hy! She was my stepmother, and--" "Come, Beauty, what you actin' up for? Ain't that doll you've been piping about all these months comin' now that the old woman is out of the way? Bring her on and lemme have a look at her. If she's in your class, lemme look her over." "Gimme--a minute, Hy. I--I just wanna send--a wire." "Sure; tell her to come on. I'll send it for you. I'll look her over, and--" "No--no! Let Ysobel send it. You do it, Ysobel. Here, gimme your pen, Hy." She wrote with her breath half a moan in her throat, and her bosom heaving and flashing the diamond heart. "Send it right off, Ysobel darlin'--read it and send it off, darlin'." She daubed a rabbit's foot under each eye and slid into the silver-fox coat. "Read it, darlin', and send it." Ysobel read slowly like a child spelling out its task. Breakers--ahead. Stay at home, dearie. DELLA. Through eyes that were magnified through the glaze of tears Ysobel burrowed her head in the silver-fox collar. "Oh, Del--Del darlin'--I'm wise--but, oh, my darlin'." "Come on. Whatta you think this is, a soul-kiss scene--you two?" "Comin', Hy--comin'." "Della darlin'." "Good night, Ysobel; lemme go, dearie--lemme go." Then out through a labyrinth of stacked scenery, with her elbow in the cup of his hand, and the silver shimmering in the gloom. "Gad, you will have that scrawny little hanger-on around and gettin' on my nerves! If I weren't always humorin' the daylights out of you she wouldn't spoil a ballet of mine for fifteen minutes, she--" "It's darn little I ask out of you, but you gotta lemme have her--you gotta lemme have that much, or the whole blame show can--" "Keep cool, there, Tragedy Queen, and watch your step! I don't want you limpin' in there to-night with a busted ankle on top of your long face." They high-stepped through a dirty passageway stacked with stage bric-a-brac, out into a whiff of night air, across a pavement, and into a wine-colored limousine. He climbed in after her, throwing open the great fur collar of his coat and lighting his cigar.