“That’s just the way with me—­when I meet a girl that looks good I want to treat her white, and I want her to do the same by me.”

They strolled along the edge of the beach.  Once the foaming surf threatened to lap over her slippers; he caught her deftly and raised her high above the swirl.

“Oh,” she cried, a little breathlessly, “ain’t you strong!” Then she laughed in a high-pitched voice.

They dallied until the moon hardened from a soft, low ball to a high, yellow disk and the night damp seeped into their clothes.  Miss Sternberger’s yellow scarf lay like a limp rag on her shoulders.

“You’re a perfect thirty-six, ain’t you, little one?”

“That’s what they say when I try on ready-mades,” she replied, with sweet reticence.

“Gee!” he said.  “Wouldn’t I like you in some of my models!  Maybe if you ain’t no snitch I’ll show you the colored plates some day.”

“I ain’t no snitch,” she said.  Her voice was like a far-away echo.

They climbed the wooden steps to their hotel like glorified children who had been caught in a silver weft of enchantment.

The lobby was semi-dark; they asked for their keys in whispers and exchanged good-nights in long-drawn undertones.

“Until to-morrow, little one.”

“Until to-morrow.”

She entered the elevator with a smile on her lips and in her eyes.  They regarded each other through the iron framework until she shot from sight.

* * * *

At breakfast next morning Mrs. Blondheim drew up before her “small steak, French-fried potatoes, jelly omelet, buttered toast, buckwheat cakes, and coffee.”

“Well, of all the nerve!” she exclaimed to her vis-a-vis, Mrs. Epstein.  “If there ain’t Myra Sternberger eatin’ breakfast with that Mr. Arnheim!”

Mrs. Epstein opened a steaming muffin, inserted a lump of butter, and pressed the halves together.  “I said to my husband last night,” she remarked, ’I’m glad we ‘ain’t got no daughters’; till they’re married off and all, it ain’t no fun.  With my Louie, now, it’s different.  When he came out of the business school my husband put him in business, and now I ’ain’t got no worry.”

“My Bella ’ain’t never given me a day’s worry, neither.  I ain’t in no hurry to marry her off.  She always says to me, ‘Mamma,’ she says, ’I ain’t in no hurry to marry till Mr. Right comes along.’”

“My Louie is comin’ down to-day or to-morrow on his vacation if he can get away from business.  Louie’s a good boy—­if I do say so myself.”

“I don’t want to talk—­but I often say what my Bella gets when she marries is enough to give any young man a fine start in a good business.”

“I must have my Louie meet Miss Bella.  The notes and letters Louie gets from girls you wouldn’t believe; he don’t pay no attention to ’em.  He’s an awful mamma-boy, Mrs. Blondheim.”

“It will be grand for them to meet,” said Mrs. Blondheim.  “If I do say it, my Bella’s had proposals you wouldn’t believe!  Look at Simon Arnheim over there—­he only met her yesterday, and do you think he would leave her side all day?  No, siree.  Honest, it makes me mad sometimes.  A grand young man comes along and Bella introduces him to every one, but she won’t have nothin’ to do with him.”