"Let me say," he pursued, fervently, "without any hope of reward, speaking very conservatively, that you are, without question, the most beautiful girl in all the world! I have been nearly certain of it for some time, but now I _know_. You are not only perfectly wonderful, but wonderfully perfect--all of you! And now take a good look at me--" "Yes; just before he is put away," interjected the president, trying to treat tragedy humorously before this female of the species. But for the fear of the newspapers, he would have rung for the private detective whose business was to keep out cranks, bomb-throwing anarchists, and those fellow-Christians who wished to pledge their word of honor as collateral on time-loans of less than five dollars. But she thought this friendly persiflage meant that the interesting young man was a social equal as well as a person of veracity and excellent taste. So she smiled non-committally. She was, alas, young! "They will not put me away for thinking what I say," asserted Hendrik, with such conviction that she blushed. Having done this, she smiled at him directly, that there might be no wasted effort. Wasn't it spring, and wasn't he young and fearless? And more than all that, wasn't he a _novelty_, and she a New York woman? "When you hear the name of Hendrik Rutgers, or see it in the newspapers, remember it belongs to the man who thought you were the only perfectly beautiful girl God ever made. And He has done pretty well at times, you must admit." With some people, both blasphemy and breakfast foods begin with a small "b". The Only Perfect One thought he was a picturesque talker! "Mr. Rutgers, I am sorry you must be going," said the president, with a pleasant smile, having made up his mind that this young man was not only crazy, but harmless--unless angered. "But you'll come back, won't you, when you are famous? We should like to have your account." Hendrik ignored him. He looked at her and said: "Do _you_ prefer wealth to fame? Anybody can be rich. But famous? Which would you rather hear: _There goes Miss $80,000-a-year Goodchild or That is that wonderful Goodchild girl everybody is talking about?_" She didn't know what to answer, the question being a direct one and she a woman. But this did not injure Hendrik in her eyes; for women actually love to be compelled to be silent in order to let a man speak--at certain times, about a certain subject. Her father, after the immemorial fashion of unintelligent parents, answered for her. He said, stupidly: "It never hurts to have a dollar or two, dear Mr. Rutgers."