But Larry was so startled by this changed Maggie that for the
moment he could not have moved from the door even had he so desired.
She was accoutered in the smartest of filmy evening gowns, with the
short skirt which was then the mode, with high-heeled silver
slippers, her rounded arms and shoulders and bosom bare, her abundant
black hair piled high in careful carelessness. The gown was cerise in
color, and from her forearm hung a great fan of green plumes. In all
the hotels and theaters of New York one could hardly have come upon a
figure that night more striking in its finished and fresh young
womanhood. Larry trembled all over; his heart tried to throb madly up
out of his throat.
At length he spoke. And all he was able to say was:
"Maggie."
She whirled about, and telephone and receiver almost fell from her
hands. She went pale, and stared at him, her mouth agape, her dark
eyes wide.
"La-Larry!" she whispered.
"Maggie!" he said again.
"La-Larry! I thought you were in Chicago."
"I'm here now, Maggie--especially to see you." He did not know it, but
his voice was husky. He noted that she was still holding the telephone
and receiver. "It was I who put in that long-distance call. But I came
instead. So you might as well hang up."
She obeyed, and set the instrument upon its little table.
Pages:
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178