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"She's in trouble. This war. And she hasn't any money. I know. Look here. We've got to send her money. Cable it." "I will. Just leave it all to me." "If she's here, in this country, and you're lying to me " "She isn't. My word of honor, Ted." He relaxed. Life was a very complicated thing for Fanny these days. Ted was leaning on her; Mizzi, Otti, and now Fenger.
And at that, as though timed by some miraculous and supernatural stage manager, there came a cry from the next room; a sleepy, comfortable, imperious little cry. Mizzi had awakened. Fanny made a step in the direction of the door. Then she turned back. "Tell me why Olga didn't come. Why isn't she here with her husband and baby?" "Because she's with another man." "Another "
It was by chance that he became a painter of cats. Mademoiselle Marie Engle, the prima-donna, owned a beautiful white Angora cat which she prized very highly, and as her engagements abroad compelled her to part with the cat for a short time, she left Mizzi with the artist until her return. One day Mr.
Wallie looked at the girl. "Hello, Mizzi." "Hello," said Mizzi. "For God's sake stop saying 'hello!" roared Hahn. They both looked at him absently, and then at each other again. Hahn flung his coat and hat at the Jap and rubbed his palms briskly together. "Well, how did you like it?" he said, and slapped Wallie on the back. "How'd you like it the place I mean, and the Jap boy and all? H'm?"
And on the night the play opened, as Mizzi stepped from the entrance of her hotel on her way to the stage door, just forty or fifty feet away, there she saw stretched on the pavement a scarlet path of soft-grained carpet for her feet to tread. From the steps of the hotel to the stage door of the theatre, there it lay, a rosy line of splendour. The newspapers played it up as a publicity stunt.
"Aber sure," Otti displayed her half dozen English words whenever possible. Fanny stared a moment. Her eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "To-morrow's Saturday," she said, in German. "If it's fair and warm you put on that costume and take Mizzi to the park.... Certainly the animal cages, if you want to. If any one annoys you, come home.
Mizzi had been cross and fretful, and the sight of the familiar scarlet and black and white, and the great winged cap seemed to soothe her. "Otti!" Fanny exclaimed. "You gorgeous creature! What is it? A dress rehearsal?" Otti got the import, if not the English. "So gehen wir im Wien," she explained, and struck a killing pose. "Everybody? All the nurses? Alle?"
But he was a very wise man, and he did know to what an extent these two were possessed by ambition for that which they considered desirable. He must have thought it over for weeks. He was in love with Mizzi, remember. And his fondness for Wallie was a thing almost paternal. He watched these two for a long, long time, a queer, grim little smile on his gargoyle face. And then his mind was made up.
After a while that walk becomes a habit. "Watch her with that pail," said Wallie. Mizzi filled the pail almost to the top with the heavy white mixture. She filled it quickly, expertly. The pail, filled, weighed between seventeen and twenty kilos. One kilo is equal to about two and one fifth pounds.
Gee, you ought to smoke a fat black seegar and wear a silk hat when you ride in one of these! I feel like a parade." He was like a boy on a holiday, as always when in Europe. "But let me tell you about this girl, won't you!" "Oh, it's a girl! What's her name? What's she do?" "Her name's Mizzi." "Mizzi what?" "I don't know. She's a hod carrier. She " "That's all right, Wallie. I'm here now.
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