"Mr. Eckstein—oh, I been meetin' him down here in July for two years.
He's a nice fellow an' makes a good livin'—but he ain't my style."
"Girls are too particular nowadays. Take my Bella—why, that girl's had chances you wouldn't believe! But she always says to me, she says, 'Mamma, I ain't goin' to marry till Mr. Right comes along.'"
"That's just the same way with me."
"My Bella's had chances—not one, but six. You can ask anybody who knows us in New York the chances that goil has had."
"I ain't in a hurry to take the first man that asks me, neither."
Mrs. Blondheim wrapped the forefinger of her left hand with mercerized cotton thread, and her needle flashed deftly.
"What about the little Baltimore fellow that went away yesterday? I seen he was keepin' you pretty busy."
"Aw, Mrs. Blondheim, can't a girl have a good time with a fellow without gettin' serious?"
But she giggled in pleased self-consciousness and pushed her combs into place—Miss Sternberger wore her hair oval about her face like Mona Lisa; her cheeks were pink-tinted, like the lining of a conch-shell.
"My Bella always says a goil can't be too careful at these here summer resorts—that's why she ain't out every night like some of these goils. She won't go out with a young man till she knows he comes from nice people."