They were hard and green-yellow as a cat's; cruel eyes, guided by a cruel animal cunning; often they were lit with a strange, unnatural glitter.
Alicia's voice was soft and well modulated when she spoke. "Poor Eleanor should come to her senses and get out of the game. Doesn't she know that she's through?"
"I'm afraid not," said Mrs. Lee, the character actress, with a wise, sad shake of her head.
"Who's Beauregard got now, Mrs. Lee?"
"A kid he's picked out of the chorus. Funniest looking thing you ever saw. Got her hair cut off."
"Got what?"
"Hair bobbed like a kid's. Dutch cut. I almost laughed in her face the other night when I seen her."
"He doesn't always run to pretty girls, does he?" Alicia, with arched brows, motioned toward the lavatory. She was smiling.
"Ssh, she'll hear you. There's no sense rubbing it in."
The fat character actress wobbled unsteadily to her feet. "I've known Eleanor for years," she said. "When Beauregard picked her up, she was one of the prettiest girls I'd ever seen.'
Mrs. Lee's voice always dropped to a confidential whisper when she gossiped. She half covered her mouth with her plump white hand, loaded with old-fashioned rings set with semi-precious stones.
"Eleanor wasn't common looking like the others, but awful refined. And smart, too. I want to tell you she led that old bird a merry song and dance before she came across."
"Ohs . . ." from the girls. Alicia laughed.
"But I'm not criticizing her for it, even if you do, because as I've always said, how on earth is any girl to hold out on a man that spends money the way Beauregard does?"
