a clatter of crockery so uproarious as to be more like
something solid than a mere sound.

"I couldn't believe it was you!"

A girl in blue had risen from the nearest table, and was staring at
her in astonishment. Jill recognized her instantly. Those big,
pathetic eyes, like a lost child's, were unmistakable. It was the
parrot girl, the girl whom she and Freddie Rooke had found in the
drawing-room at Ovingdon Square that afternoon when the foundations of
the world had given way and chaos had begun.

"Good gracious!" cried Jill. "I thought you were in London!"

That feeling of emptiness and panic, the result of her interview with
the Guatemalan general at the apartment house, vanished magically. She
sat down at this unexpected friend's table with a light heart.

"Whatever are you doing in New York?" asked the girl. "I never knew
you meant to come over."

"It was a little sudden. Still, here I am. And I'm starving. What are
those things you're eating?"

"Buckwheat cakes."

"Oh, yes. I remember Uncle Chris talking about them on the boat. I'll
have some."

"But when did you come over?"

"I landed about ten days ago. I've been down at a place called
Brookport on Long Island. How funny running into you like this!"

"I was surprised that you remembered me."

"I've forgotten your name," admitted Jill frankly. "But that's
nothing. I always forget names."

"My name's Nelly Bryant."

"Of course. And you're on the stage, aren't you?"

"Yes. I've just got work with Goble and Cohn.... Hullo, Phil!"

A young man with a lithe figure and smooth black hair brushed straight
back from his forehead had paused at the table on his way to the
cashier's desk.

"Hello, Nelly."

"I didn't know you lunched here."

"Don't often. Been rehearsing with Joe up at the Century Roof, and had
a quarter of an hour to get a bite. Can I sit down?"

"Sure. This is my friend, Miss Mariner."

The young man shook hands with Jill, flashing an approving glance at
her out of his dark, restless eyes.

"Pleased to meet you."

"This is Phil Brown," said Nelly. "He plays the straight for Joe
Widgeon. They're the best jazz-and-hokum team on the Keith Circuit."

"Oh, hush!" said Mr. Brown modestly. "You always were a great little
booster, Nelly."

"Well, you know you are! Weren't you held over at the Palace last
time? Well, then!"

"That's true," admitted the young man. "Maybe we didn't gool 'em, eh?
Stop me on the street and ask me! O