of my worship. I told him that in her presence I could only blush and stammer, and that she looked upon me with a wonderful, maddening smile of amusement.
“She kind of moves in the professional class, don’t she?” asked Mack.
“The Telfair family—” I began, haughtily.
“I mean professional beauty,” said my hearer.
“She is greatly and widely admired,” I answered, cautiously.
“Any sisters?”
“One.”
“You know any more girls?”
“Why, several,” I answered. “And a few others.”
“Say,” said Mack, “tell me one thing—can you hand out the dope to other girls? Can you chin ’em and make matinée eyes at ’em and squeeze ’em? You know what I mean. You’re just shy when it comes to this particular dame—the professional beauty—ain’t that right?”
“In a way you have outlined the situation with approximate truth,” I admitted.
“I thought so,” said Mack, grimly. “Now, that reminds me of my own case. I’ll tell you about it.”
