“I used to have that idea, Loo.  West, where a fellow’s got to stand on his own.  Why, if I’d have met a girl like you ten years ago, I’d have made you the baby doll of the Pacific Coast.  I like you, Loo.  I like your style and the way you look like a million dollars.  When a fellow walks into a cafe with you he feels like he’s wearing the Hope diamond.  Maybe the society in this town has given me the cold shoulder, but I’d like to see any of the safety-first boys walk in with one that’s got you beat.  That’s what I think of you, girl.”

“Aw, now, you’re lighting up.  Charley.  That’s four glasses you’ve taken.”

“Thought I was kidding you last night—­didn’t you—­about wedding-bells?”

“You were lit up.”

“I know.  You’re going to watch your step, little girl, and I don’t know as I blame you.  You can get plenty of boys my carat, and a lot of other things thrown in I haven’t got to offer you.”

“As if I wouldn’t like you, Charley, if you were dead broke!”

“Of course you would!  There, there, girl, I don’t blame any of you for feathering your nest.”  He was flushed now and above the soft collar, his face had relaxed into a not easily controllable smile.  “Feather your nest, girl; you got the looks to do it.  It’s a far cry from Flamm Avenue to where a classy girl like you can land herself if she steers right.  And I wish it to you, girl; the best isn’t good enough.”

“I—­I dare you to ask me again, Charley!”

“Ask what?”

“You know.  Throw your head up the way you do when you mean what you say and—­ask.”

He was wagging his head now insistently, but pinioning his gaze with the slightly glassy stare of those who think none too clearly.

“Honest, I don’t know, beauty.  What’s the idea?”

“Didn’t you say yourself—­Gerber, out here in Claxton that—­magistrate that marries you in verse—­”

“By gad, I did!”

“Well—­I—­I—­dare you to ask me again, Charley.”

He leaned forward.

“You game, girl?”

“Sure.”

“No kidding?”

“Try me.”

“I’m serious, girl.”

“So’m I.”

“There’s Jess over there can get us a special license from his brother-in-law.  Married in verse in Claxton sounds good to me, honey.”

“But not—­the crowd, Charley; just you—­and—­”

“How’re we going to get the license, honey, this time of night without Jess?  Let’s make it a million-dollar wedding.  We’re not ashamed of nobody or nothing.”

“Of course not, Charley.”

“Now, you’re sure, honey?  You’re drawing a fellow that went to the dogs before he cut his canines.”

“You’re not all to the canines yet, Charley.”

“I may be a black sheep, honey, but, thank God, I got my golden fleece to offer you!”

“You’re not—­black.”

“You should worry, girl!  I’m going to make you the million-dollar baby doll of this town, I am.  If they turn their backs, we’ll dazzle ’em from behind.  I’m going to buy you every gewgaw this side of the Mississippi.  I’m going to show them a baby doll that can make the high-society bunch in this town look like Subway sports.  Are you game, girl?  Now!  Think well!  Here goes.  Jess!”