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"I suppose you'll be going to Tim Slattery's place tonight," he went on. "It's the coolest spot this side of the Atlantic Ocean." There was, apparently, nothing cryptic in this remark, yet it is worth noting that Lise instantly became suspicious. "Why would I be going out there?" she inquired innocently, darting at him a dark, coquettish glance. Mr.
"He don't own me," said Lise. Mr. Tiernan threw back his head, and laughed. "Well, if you're there to-night, tangoin' with him and I come up and says, `Miss Bumpus, the pleasure is mine, I'm wondering what would happen." "I'm not going to Slattery's to-night," she declared having that instant arrived at this conclusion. "And where then? I'll come along, if there's a chance for me."
She permitted him to take her, however, to Gruber's Cafe, to the movies, and one or two select dance halls, and to Slattery's Riverside Park, where one evening she had encountered the rejected Mr. Wiley. "Say, he was sore!" she told Janet the next morning, relating the incident with relish, "for two cents he would have knocked Charlie over the ropes. I guess he could do it, too, all right."
At the time she accepted the affair with stoical pessimism, as one who has learned what to expect of the world, though her moral sense was not profoundly disturbed by the reflection that she had indulged in the delights of Slattery's and Gruber's and a Sunday at "the Beach" at the expense of the Cascade Sprinkler Company of Boston. Mr.
At the time she accepted the affair with stoical pessimism, as one who has learned what to expect of the world, though her moral sense was not profoundly disturbed by the reflection that she had indulged in the delights of Slattery's and Gruber's and a Sunday at "the Beach" at the expense of the Cascade Sprinkler Company of Boston. Mr.
Wiley with the other, her code permitting this; permitting him also, occasionally, when they found themselves in tenebrous portions of Slattery's Riverside Park, to put his arm around her waist and kiss her. So much did Lise's virtue allow, and no more, the result being that he existed in a tantalizing state of hope and excitement most detrimental to the nerves.
"I'll see what I can do," said Margaret, and departed. She did not return, for the very good reason that Miss Jennie apprehended her in the act of pouring something from a dark brown bottle into a brand new fruit jar. "What are you doing there, Maggie?" demanded Miss Dowd from the foot of the cellar stairs. Miss Slattery's back was toward her at the time.
The Baptists took their wives and daughters to listen to Slattery's foul lies about the convents and the confessional, the Pope and "his Waco Apostle," and his most infamous utterances were applauded to the echo.
"I suppose you'll be going to Tim Slattery's place tonight," he went on. "It's the coolest spot this side of the Atlantic Ocean." There was, apparently, nothing cryptic in this remark, yet it is worth noting that Lise instantly became suspicious. "Why would I be going out there?" she inquired innocently, darting at him a dark, coquettish glance. Mr.
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