ing a costume fashioned entirely of strands of rhinestones. On her head waved a forest of yellow feathers, secured in a crown of brilliants. Her bare arms were encased nearly to the elbow in a succession of circles of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and rubies. On her bare right ankle—her feet were casketed in sandals—, she wore three more of these circles. There was a heavy impression of muguet in the air.
Are you all cuckoo? the girl demanded of the belligerent group. This ain't a bull-fight or a baseball game! What d'ye think y'are, she inquired shrilly of the art director, Babe Ruth?
Zimbule passed the silver chain, with the leopard attached, to her Negro maid, who followed her. The men were apologetic.
I was jest tellin' 'em it couldn't be done, explained the camera-man.
That's right, Zimbule sneered. You tell 'em, Sweeney, you're the biggest. Suddenly she saw Harold. Hello, she said, in a friendly enough tone. So you're here.
As she walked towards him he advanced to meet her, thinking at the same time that never before had she appeared so beautiful. He hesitated for a second as to whether or not he should offer his hand and she, observing his confusion, held out her own. Curiously, she too seemed a little ill at ease.
I hope, he stammered, that you'll find me all right. You know—he patted his face with his handker-
