"
* * * * *
Buckeye Pete was celebrating. He seemed to be suddenly flush with "dust"
and was dispensing drinks with a liberality which soon brought him a
numerous following. By midnight it was a well-mellowed assemblage.
"Mignon, how long have you been dealin'?"
"About tree, four mont', Monsieur."
"I don't mean here. I mean altogether."
"About six ye-ar, Monsieur."
"You must be well off by this time. An' they say that you've earned it
all workin', and that you're straight. Say, I'll marry you, if you say
the word - "
"You say, they say, too much, Monsieur."
"Here! Don't you go givin' me no orders, you French crinoline fluff!"
"I ordair no man, an' no man is ordair me!" She stared him down with her
glittering, black eyes, and returned to her dealing. Pete strolled out,
followed by his satellites. When the noises in the street grew louder it
caused no particular comment. It was the usual thing. But when a crowd
burst into the Royal Flush, Mignon sprang to her feet with a cry of
anguish.
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