"Believe me, if he wasn't all right my Bella wouldn't let him hang on that way."
"I've heard of him."
"I wish you could see that Babette Dreyfous eying my Bella! She's just green because Bella's got him."
"Do you use the double stitch in your crochet, Mrs. Blondheim? That's a pretty pattern you're workin' on."
"Yes. I've just finished a set of doilies you'd pay twenty-five dollars for anywhere."
Miss Sternberger rose languidly to her feet. "Well," she said, "I guess
I'll take a stroll and go up to bed."
"Don't be so fidgety, Miss Sternberger; sit down by me and talk."
Miss Sternberger smiled. "I'll see you later, Mrs. Blondheim; and don't forget that preparation I was tellin' you about—Sloand's Mosquito Skit. Just rub the bottle stopper over your pillow and see if it don't work."
She moved away with the dignity of an emperor moth, slim and supple-hipped in a tight-wrapped gown.
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.