ver a thousand left in your Uncle
Jimmy's bank-roll."

"And you had over forty thousand when Sammy Harrison introduced us,"
said the Beauty with a sigh. "Honest, Pinky, somebody has sure put a
poison curse on you. You're a grand little sport, but on the level,
I'm afraid to trail around with you much longer. I'm afraid I'll lose
my voice or break a leg."

"Old pal," agreed J. Rufus, "the hex is sure on me, and if I don't
walk around my chair real quick, the only way I'll get to see you will
be to buy a gallery seat."

"I was just going to talk with you about that, Jimmy," stated the
Beauty seriously. "You've been a perfect gentleman in every respect,
and I will say I never met a party that was freer with his coin; but
I've got to look out for my future. I won't always be a hit, and I've
got to pick out a good marrying proposition while the big bouquets
grow with my name already on 'em. Of course, you know, I couldn't
marry you, because nothing less than a million goes. If you only had
the money now--"

She looked up at him with a certain lazy admiration. He was
tremendously big; and rather good-looking, too, she gaged, although
the blue eyes that were set in his jovial big countenance were
entirely too small.

In reply to her unfinished sentence J. Rufus chuckled.

"Don't you worry about that, little one," said he. "I only wear you on
my arm for the same reason that I wear this Tungsten-light boulder in
my necktie: just to show 'em I'm the little boy that can grab off the
best there is in the market. Of course it'd be fine and dandy to win
you for keeps, but I know where you bought your ticket for, long ago.
You'll end by getting your millionaire. In six months he'll go dippy
over some other woman, and then you'll get your alimony, which is not
only a handy thing to have around the house, but proves that you're
perfectly respectable."

"You've got some good ideas, anyhow," she complimented him, and then
she sighed. "The only trouble is, every time one lines up that I
think'll do, I find he's got a wife hid away some place."

"And it isn't set down in her lines to fix up alimony for some other
woman," commented the pseudo Mrs. Phillips.

A couple of men, one nattily dressed and with curly hair, and the
other short and fat and wearing a flaming waistcoat, passed on their
way down to the betting-shed and carelessly tipped their hats.

"Do you know those two cheaps?" she inquired, eying their retreating
backs