The Seaside Hotel lobby leaned forward in its chairs; young men moved their feet from the veranda rail and gazed after her; pleasantries fell in her pathway as roses before a queen.

A splay-mouthed youth, his face and neck sunburnt to a beefy red, tugged at her gold-colored scarf as she passed.

“Oh, you Myra!” he sang.

“Quit your kiddin’, Izzy!” she parried back.  “Who was that blonde I seen you with down at the beach this mornin’?”

A voluptuous brunette in a rose-pink dress and diamonds dragged her down to the arm of her rocker.

“I got a trade-last for you, Myra.”

“For me?”

“Yes.”

“Give it to me, Clara.”

“No, I said a trade—­and a dandy, too!”

“Who from—­man?”

“Yes.”

“Well, I got one for you, too—­Leon Eckstein says he thinks you’re an awfully sweet girl and will make some man a grand wife.”

Clara giggled and fingered the gold-fringe edging of Miss Sternberger’s sleeve.  She spoke slowly and stressed each word alike.

“Well, there’s a fellow just got here from Paris yesterday—­says you sure know how to dress and that you got a swell figure.”

“Who said it?”

“Guess.”

“I should know!”

“That fellow over there with Bella Blondheim—­the one with the smooth face and grayish hair.  I hear he’s a swell New York fellow in the importin’ business.”

“How’d Bella grab him?”

“She’s been holdin’ on to him like a crawfish all day.  She won’t let anybody get near him—­neither will her mother.”

“Here comes Izzy over here after me!  If there’s one fellow I can’t stand it’s him.”

Miss Sternberger moved away with her chin tilted at a sharp angle.  At a turn in the veranda she came suddenly upon Miss Bella Blondheim and a sleek, well-dressed young man with grayish hair.  Miss Blondheim’s hand was hooked with a deadlock clutch to the arm of her companion.

Miss Sternberger threw herself before them like a melodrama queen flagging a train.  “Hello, Bella!” she said in a voice as low as a ’cello.

Miss Blondheim, who had once sold the greatest number of aprons at a charity bazar, turned cold eyes upon the intruder.

“Hello, Myra!” she said in cool tones of dismissal.

There was a pause; the color swept up and surged over Miss Blondheim’s face.

“Are you finished with Love in a Cottage, Bella?  I promised it to Mrs. Weiss when you’re finished with it.”

“Yes,” said Bella.  “I’ll bring it down to-night.”

There was another pause; the young man with the grayish hair coughed.

“Mr. Arnheim, let me introduce you to my friend, Miss Sternberger.”

Miss Sternberger extended a highly groomed hand.  “Pleased to meet you,” she said.

“Howdy-do, Miss Sternberger?” His arm squirmed free from the deadlock clutch.  “Won’t you join us?”