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Show -91 in front of me and I took a Margarita from her tray. "Be careful: you haven't had dinner," Mary-Ellen, whispered. I was puzzled and embarrassed by these girls, and by the way Maybelle acted with them. Beneath a queer formal politeness that she put on with all whom she considered to be her social inferiors Mary-Ellen's aunt treated them like dogs. Rich people are different from you and me, that's certain, I thought, watching her sail serenely down the center of the crowded Living-room in our direction. I gulped at my drink and smiled back at her; it was hard to fight back a conviction that she was a superior personage, and entitled to her manner. My wife was pretty and fresh in a long white dress with little yellow and blue flowers. Her hair was chestnut-colored, with a hint of red, her eyes a vivid surprising green. She launched herself 'at her aunt and was rewarded with a hug and a quick peck on the cheek, then Maybelle drew back and looked me over critically. "He could use a new suit." "Here I am," I said. "Talk to me. What's the matter with my s u i t , Maybelle?" She wore her h a i r cropped close and dyed a flat unnatural black; a p a i r of gold-rimmed glasses hung on her chest at the end of a gold chain. She looked at me and sighed, |