That night Charley got drunk al by him-self at a speak in the Fifties. Gladys in so many satinwhite fril s and the lace veil and the orangeblossoms, with a little boy in white satin hold-ing up her train, looked like somebody Charley had never seen before. She hung on his arm; there was something tight and electric and uncom-fortable in the way their hips occasional y touched as they walked. Taki thinks we lack culture, said Charley, laughing.
He kept whispering to her to see what she could do to keep the old gent out of the pictures. When Agnes came upstairs again after Margo had hadher bath, she said crossly, Margie, we ought to have di-vorced Tony long ago. There was something hot and sticky in the way the men looked at Margie when' she brushed past them in the hal that made her feel awful funny. She says she'l write to General Pershing.
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