She continued, as he knelt at her feet and twisted the reluctant buttons one by one into place, “I’ve done the circus girl for hours, over and over again. Gregory doesn’t like the way I do it—and I don’t like the way Jimmy Taylor does Anatol. Neither does Gregory, for that matter. Everything’s gone wrong tonight.... Gregory gets more and more Napoleonic. He says, ‘Stop! we’ll do that scene all over again!’ Nothing about what’s the matter, or how it should be done—we just know that it doesn’t suit him, and so we do it differently. And usually worse. Then he frowns; he bites his lip; he even stamps his foot: but even that doesn’t do much good!” She put out her other foot. “Jimmie’s really impossible as Anatol. He looks all right—but he hasn’t any spirit. You just can’t imagine Jimmie’s having six mistresses. He treats me as though I were his aunt.... Gregory wants me to do the circus girl ‘simply’—whatever that means. I wish he would condescend to explain, instead of just looking haughty.... I’m awfully tired.... Thanks. I don’t feel quite clothed without my spats.” Felix stood up. “Let’s go somewhere and get something to eat,” he said. “I’d like to,” she said. “I don’t want to go home. I’m too tired to sleep.” She buttoned her coat about her. It was a boyish coat, and she wore it with a boyish air. There was something Puck-like in her face, something impish, mischievous. “Have you a nickname?” he asked curiously. “Yes,” she said, startled. “Why?” “What is it?” “Bobby. Again, why?” He laughed. “Because I was going to give you one if you hadn’t. I was going to name you Till Eulenspiegel. But Bobby will do very well. I shall call you that, if you don’t mind.” “I don’t mind. But you may regret it.—Who was Till Eulenspiegel?” she asked. “A celebrated scamp.—Why should I regret it?” “We’ll have to number our questions and answers—we’re getting all mixed up. Bobby is a celebrated scamp, too. You haven’t heard of her? When I’m Elva I’m on my very best behaviour.” “Then come as Bobby, by all means!” he said. “It’s only fair to warn you that you may not like her at all. Some people don’t.” “I’m sure _I_ shall. Come along!” he laughed. “Wait a moment. How much money have you got? When I’m Bobby, I insist on paying my own way. But I’ve only carfare home tonight. So you’ll have to lend me some.” He took out a roll of bills from his pocket, all that was left of the two weeks’ salary after paying for his apartment, and solemnly divided it. She accepted the money, and then handed it back. “No, I feel like being recklessly dependent tonight. I’ll let you buy my dinner.... One moment—I have to turn the lights out. Go ahead, I can find my way out in the dark.” She joined him in the hall a moment later. “The elevator’s stopped running,” she said, “we’ll have to walk down.” Half way down she stopped. “Let’s rest and smoke a cigarette.” She lighted her cigarette at his match, and then asked, “What brings you here tonight?”