"Oh, is he?" says Mame, lettin' on not to care. "And yet when he was livin' in one of our apartments he passed me every day without seein' me at all." "Oh, ho!" says I. "You took notice of him, though, did you?" Miss Stribble pinks up at that. "Yes, I did," says she. "He struck me as a reg'lar feller, one of the kind you could tie to. And when he'd almost step over me without noticin'--well, I'll admit that sort of hurt. I expect that's why I made up my mind to shake the mop and pail outfit and break in some place where I could pick up a few tricks. After a few stabs I landed here at the Maison. I remember I had on a saggy skirt and a shirtwaist that must have looked like it had been improvised out of a coffee sack. It's a wonder they let me past the door. But they did. For the first six weeks, though, they kept me in the work rooms. Then I got one of the girls to help me evenings on a black taffeta; I saved up enough for two pairs of silk stockin's, blew myself to some pumps with four inch heels, and begun carryin' a vanity box. It worked. Next thing I knew they had me down on the main floor carryin' stock to the models and now and then displayin' misses' styles to customers. I had a hunch I was gettin' easier to look at, but you never can tell by the way women size you up. All they see is the dress. And in the window there I had a chance to see whether I was registerin' with the men. That's the whole tragic tale." "Leaving out Crosby Rhodes." "That's so," admits Mame. "And it was some satisfaction, bringin' him to life." "You've done more'n that," says I. "He's one of these guys that wants what he wants, and goes after it strong. Just now it seems to be you." "How inter-estin'!" says Mame. "Tell me, what's his line?" "Airplane timber," says I. "He's from out on the Coast." "Oh!" says she. "From one of these little straight-through-on-Main-street burgs, I suppose?" "Headquarters in Seattle, I understand," says I. "That's hardly on the Tom show circuit." "Yes, I guess I've heard of the place," says Mame. "But what's his proposition!" "First off," says I, "Crosby wants to get acquainted. If he has any hymen stuff up his sleeve, I expect you'd better hear that from him personally. The question now is, do you want to meet him?" "Oh, I dunno," says Mame careless. "I guess I'll take a chance." "Then forget that vanishing act of yours," says I, "and I'll run him in." And, honest, as I slips out of the Maison Noir and beats it for my lunch, I felt like I'd done a day's work. What it would come to was by me. They was off my hands, anyway. That couldn't have been over a week ago. And here only yesterday Crosby comes crashin' into the Corrugated general offices, pounds me enthusiastic on the back, and announces that I'm the best friend he's got in the world. "Meanin', I expect," says I, "that Miss Stribble and you have been gettin' on?"