One man had made
up his mind to follow this fair visitor, and his woman was beating
him in the face, shrieking her curses.
A party of drunken sailors staggered in, singing uproariously, and
almost fell over the bar.
But not a sound had penetrated Madeleine's unheeding ears. She had
seen Masters.
His drab had not taken his invitation to bedeck herself too
literally, nor had she ventured into Broadway. But after returning
with the rum she had gone as far as Fell Street and bought herself
all the tawdry finery her funds would command. She wore it with tipsy
pride: a pink frock of slazy silk with as full a flowing skirt as any
on Fifth Avenue during the hour of promenade, a green silk mantle,
and a hat as flat as a plate trimmed with faded roses, soiled
streamers hanging down over her impudent chignon. She was attracting
far more attention than the simply dressed lady from the upper world.
The eyes of the women in her vicinity were redder with envy than with
liquor and they cursed her shrilly. One of the younger women, carried
away by a sudden dictation of femininity, made a dart for the fringed
mantle with obvious intent to appropriate it by force. She received a
blow in the face from the dauntless owner that sent her sprawling,
while the others mingled jeers with their curses.
Pages:
188
189
190
191
192
193
194
195
196
197
198
199
200
201
202
203
204
205
206
207
208
209
210
211
212