n
new-grass green, so prettily grateful that she suggested pink sashes
and dimity. And Felicity wasn't a pink-sash-and-dimity girl. Hamilton
knew that. But did Perry Blair? Just a kid! Dammitt! But nobody,
not even a kid, had any right monkeying with Broadway, or Felicity, if
he couldn't take care of himself.

Yet Hamilton, after he had said good-night, lingered a while. And
again--immediately--something which he had anticipated came to pass.

The lemon limousine was waiting at the curb. And Dunham stepped out of
it, again with his preposterous nimbleness, when Felicity appeared. He
stood holding wide the door. But the girl gave him only a nice little
nod. She slipped her hand happily into the crook of Perry's arm.

Hamilton had a glimpse of Pig-iron Dunham's face.

"Hooked!" he exclaimed. "Hooked!"

But he had a good look at Perry Blair's too, as the pair passed.

"Dammitt!" he snapped. "Dammitt!" And yet folks wondered why a chap
who knocked around this city hunting news sometimes drank more than was
good for him.

CHAPTER VII

AS WILLOWS BUD IN SPRING

Cecille was still up, staring out of the window, when Felicity and
Perry Blair came in that night. Perry stayed but a moment, only long
enough to promise that he would come again. Then he was gone. And
Felicity was standing before the other girl, every line of her pulsing
triumph.

"Not him!" Cecille cried. She could not have understood the triumph
better had Felicity explained with a torrent of words.

"Oh, not him!" with quick, unthinking horror. "He--he's only a boy."

"Who?" demanded Felicity blankly.

"Mr--Mr. Blair."

Felicity's laugh was staccato.

"Him? Good Lord, no. Dunham!" She fairly sang it. "Dunham.
Pig-iron Dunham. I knew if I waited I'd cop. Now watch me. Watch my
dust!"

Cecille wondered why she didn't pack her bag and get out. But she
didn't. She stayed. And later, a little timidly, she inquired about
Blair.

"Perry Blair?" Felicity with a racing tongue had been describing how
Dunham led her away from the near-accident.

"Perry? Oh, he's a prize-fighter. Light-weight champion, or he was
for a minute or so. He wouldn't play the game when he had his chance,
I guess, so Dunham and the bunch broke him. Something like that. I
never did hear the inside stuff. But they say he was a bust
anyway--just a morning-glory--and didn't know his luck. But do I? Did
I play the game to-night? Did I pa