CHAPTER EIGHT
SADIE WIMPEL sat studying her face in the glass.
"Yuh ain't lookin' so rotten to-night, Duchess,"she ruminated aloud, as she poked a plait of her freshly marcelled hair into place. Then she languidly proceeded to powder her neck and shoulders with a swan's-down "spreader," solemnly studying her own image in the mirror as she did so.
Then a smile broke across her sober young face, for in the doorway behind her she caught sight of Wilsnach, in evening dress, and with a top-coat over his arm.
"Come in!" she sang out over her calcinated shoulder, for her hesitating visitor had shown every sign of vanishing.
"I'll wait," announced the ever decorous Wilsnach.
"Ain't he the timid bird?" Sadie demanded of her mirror, as she gave a finishing touch to her face with the powder-puff. Then she stood up and
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