She wasn't telling "secrets" now, though there would always be a certain aura of naughtiness surrounding Maude's words. It was because her eyes carried forever with them the look of an easy and unrepented surrender.
"And you, dear, what have you been doing?" Maude had finished discoursing on what she termed a perfectly ghastly summer, and she was ready to listen now in case anybody else had anything to say.
"Oh, I've been working," Dot responded. "That's about all I ever do."
"You poor thing. I simply couldn't stand an office routine. I nearly went mad rushing downtown every day. If I hadn't quit I'd have had a nervous breakdown, I feel sure."
Eddie moved uneasily and lit another cigarette.
"Hold the light," Maude said. She lifted a cork-tipped cigarette to her lips and put cool white fingers on Eddie's hand to steady it. A faint, light breath crossed Eddie's cheek, and the match was out.
He withdrew his hand. "That's my last match," he said, and he turned to blow smoke out at the dance floor.
The waiter brought the checks. Ted Monroe covered them with one hand and endeavored to look unconcerned under Eddie's steady gaze. He was ready to begin the popular good-humored argument when Eddie said quietly, "Let me have my check, Monroe."
Ted passed it over, smiling as he did so. This Collins was a strange guy, obviously low-class. Ted looked at his own check and asked Maude for three dollars and eighty cents.
Eddie got up noisily. His chair hesitated for a brief moment on its two back legs, then settled down to normal with a bang. The three at the table eyed him disapprovingly. Dot looking up from her powder compact to do so.
"Come on," he said to her. "Quit fussing. You'll look just as bad when you're finished."
