New Britain herald., 1926-10-01

 meeting new people, whether we confess 1t or not.
 And Honey Lou Huntley felt ex- actly as if she were stepping into a cage of lions as she walked across the big, bright, beautiful room that Saturday night.
 Don't let these people ritz you." she kept saying to herself. Keep q stiff upper lip, old girl"
 She did keep it stiff. She even l managed her wide and sunny smile. But hidden in the folds of her pink homemade dress her hands were 1 like Jumps Of ice. There were only three people on the sofa in front Of the open fire 1 place-two men, with q girl be- tween them She was a little dark. slender girl. all in bright Chinese red. The cigarette holder between her teeth was bright red, too, and so were her lips. She looked like a half-grown flapper, and Honey Lou was surprised when Angela Allen called her Mrs. Clemens"
 The men stood up 10 be introduce ed. The tall, sloepy-looking one was named Langdon, and Angela intro duced the other as Donegal" He was not much taller than Honey Lou, herself. He had reckless Irish eyes and a small. black toothbrush of mustache. Dapper and devil may-c2re. That was Honey LOus first impression of Timothy Donegal.
 Have a gasper?" he asked, when Honey Lou was sitting beside him on the deeply cushioned sofa. He held out his cigarette case, and she took one.
 Mrs. Clemens leaned forward. Don't light it, Miss Huntley," she begged in a high little voice, 'or we'll have to sit here and watch you smoke it, and we're just dy- ing to eat" She looked up at Angela Allen. If somebody doesn't give me some food in a minute, I'll get right down and chew up the rugs. ] swear ] will"
 Begin on this one, then,' the man named Donegal cut in with a laugh. He picked up q little Turk ish prayer-rug from the floor at his feet and tossed 1t at Mrs. Clemens. It just In:ssed her head.
 Sne stopped and threw it back to him.
 Darn your hide, Tim Donegal V she shrieked like cockatoo, what are you trying to do, break my face for me?"
 Honey Lou gave an inward gasp. Why. this girl was as common as One-Armed Annie at the Wallack mills, Her slang was the same rough and-ready slang as Ann's. and her face was tainted just as Ann's always was, like an Easter cgg. Strong perfume came from her clot thes, too, when she moved, jus. as it came from Ann sin clouds.
 T guess we're all sisters under the skin. after all," she thought comfortably, looking around her.
 Then her eyes fell on Angela Allen.
 She was different. There was no doubt of it.
 She wore no paint and Honey Lou made up her mind that she did not have so much as dusting Of powder on her clear white skin. In year when everybody else went shingled and clipped to the ears, Angela Allen wore her pale gold hair in d soft roll at the base of her head.
 She did not smoke. And she sat smiling in her tall chair looking more like a saint than ever.
 "I wonder if she really is as good as she looks" Honey Lou said to herself.
 A housemaid came into the room with d great silver tray filled with little glasses.
 Honey Lou took ono of the little glasses and looked down at inc pale orange liquid that sparkled in it.
 What is it?" she asked Tim Donegal, who sat close to her.
 He gave her queer, amused look. Don't you know" he asked,
 "Is 1t a cocktail?" asked Honey Lou, who had heard or them, but never tasted one.
 "oh, mo-" he answered, Tt couldn't possibly be a cocktail. It must be orange juice. Beautiful