New Britain herald., 1927-02-04
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world-well, think perhaps I could give up my career for him." Marry him?" Andy asked, cool and business like. You can talk to me about him if you want to. won't annoy you any more." - | Robbie put her head to one side. | T don't know whether he's the marrying kind or not. He strikes me as being too selfish to marry anyone. He's selfish and spoiled and crazy about himself. He's not a bit | like any man l ever saw before. You'd probably hate him."
 "I would. He sounds just like one of those Hollywood parlor pinks that we read about in the newspapers. | I'll bet a hat that he wears a wrist watch and runs around bare-headed and in colored shirt and knickers. l know the kind"
 Robbie Gtt her lips. Angus Mac Cloud did wear wristwatch, and l he did wear knickers and run around without a hat. She wondered how on l certainly had struck the nail on the | head.
 "Bam!" she said aloud. and got up i to clear off the breakfast things. | Both she and Andy forgot the cup of coffee that he had come for, in the l beginning.
 1 By the first of November Robbie was back at Mrs. Mangan's.
 She got there on a gray windy afternoon, let herself in with her l front door key, and went straight up the stairs to her room.
 And what a room it was. It had been neatness and order when Bob- bic left compared to what it was now.
 T don't believe Monica has touched it since I left" Robbie walled inwardly as she stood inside the door and looked at 1t.
 It looked as if someone had beat en it up with giant-size egg beater. Clothes were tossed everywhere. l hanging to the head of the bed.
 Among the powder, the rouge, the bottles of perfume, the brushes and the combs on the dresser was a dried loaf of the brown reducing bread that Monica nibbled when her hun ger bangs became too severe. Monica fought a constant fight against chins.
 There was a bag of ripe oranges on the table in the center of the Some of them had begun to rot in- side the bag. and the paper was wet with their juice. Beside it lay small half-emptied perfume flask. The perfume had trickled from the flask, and made large white stain on the vanished tabletop.
 Under the bed were pinkish lav- ender boxes-hat boxes, suit boxes, a long narrow box with the end of a white fox scarf hanging from one end and trailing out across the car pet.
 Robbie dragged out the boxes, one iL tCi tlIlptHVls III clio VI lHNhi Ne%o e1 dinner dress heavily beaded in pea cock blue. In another was a pale blue negligee crusted with silver em- broidery. The fox scarf was long and smooth and fine-an expensive thing. There were six tiny felt hats in the two hat boxes-smart little things with 1eweled pins stuck through them.
 For cats sake! Monica's been gold-digging deep this time!" she said to herself with a kind of re- spect. "She sure is high-stepper!"
 Monica was high-stepper, and no mistake. At least where clothes and restaurants and things like that were concerned. She stepped very high indeed, when it came to things that she wanted for herself.
 Where in the dickens do you suppose she got all this loot?" Bob- bic asked herself, holding one of the little French felt hats in her hands. It hadn't cost penny less than thirty dollars-not in the store where the pinky-lavender boxes came from. And she knew #.
 As if in answer to her unspoken