vanished. “He’s flattering himself again.” But the party was over, and the company moved reluctantly up the stairs to the second floor. Mr. Renault returned the saxophone to the desk.
“Say, landlord, there’s a sour note in this thing,” he complained. “Have it fixed before I come again.”
“Sure will, Mr. Renault,” promised the proprietor.
“Too early for bed, no matter what Mike says,” remarked Eden, piloting Paula Wendell to the street. “Let’s take a walk. Eldorado doesn’t look much like Union Square, but night air is night air wherever you find it.”
“Lucky for me it isn’t Union Square,” said the girl. “I wouldn’t be tagging along, if it was.”
“Is that so?”
They strolled down Main Street, white and empty in the moonlight. In a lighted window of the Spot Cash Store hung a brilliant patchwork quilt.
“To be raffled off by the ladies of the Orange Blossom Club for the benefit of the Orphans’Home,” Eden read. “Think I’ll take a chance on that tomorrow.”
“Better not get mixed up with any Orange Blossom Club,” suggested Paula Wendell.
“Oh, I can take care of myself. And it’s the orphans I’m thinking of, you know.”
“That’s your kind heart,” she answered. They climbed a narrow sandy road. Yellow lamplight in the front window of a bungalow was suddenly blotted out.
“Look at that moon,” said Eden. “Like a slice of honeydew melon just off the ice.”
“Fond of food, aren’t you,” remarked the girl. “I’ll always think of you wrestling with that steak.”
“A man must eat. And if it hadn’t been for the steak, we might never have met.”
