"Nothing, Rosie, not one hundred rooms and fifty baths--nothing I can ever do for you is one-tenth that you deserve." "And nothing, Roody, that I can do for you is one-hundredth what you deserve." "I sometimes wonder, Rosie, if, with all we got, there isn't maybe some little happiness I've overlooked for you." She lifted herself by his coat lapels, kissing him. "Such a question!" "So many times it comes up in the scenarios and the picture-plots, Rosie, how money don't always bring happiness." "It wouldn't, Roody--not a penny's worth to me without you and Bleema. But with you, Roody, no matter how happy I feel, it seems to me I can't ever feel happy enough for what we have got. Why, a woman just couldn't--why, I--I always say about you, Roody, only yesterday to my own sister-in-law, 'Etta,' I says, 'it's hard for me to think of anything new to wish for.' Just take last week, for instance, I wished it that, right after the big check you gave for the Armenian sufferers, you should give that extra ten thousand in mamma's name to the Belgian sufferers. Done! Thursday, when I seen that gray roadster I liked so much for Bleema, this afternoon she's out riding in it. It is a wonder I got a wish for anything left in me." "To have you talk like this, Rosie, is the highest of all my successes." "If--if there's one real wish I got now, Roody, it is only for our Bleema. We got a young lady, honey; we got to put on our thinking-cap." "'Young lady'--all of a sudden she decides we've got! Young baby, you better say." "A graduate this month from Miss Samuels's Central Park School he calls a baby!" "Let me see--how old is--" "He don't know his own child's age! Well, how many years back is it since we were in rainy-day skirts?" "My God! Ten--fourteen--eighteen! Eighteen years! Our little Bleema! It seems yesterday, Rosie, I was learning her to walk along Grand Street." "You haven't noticed, Roody, David Feist?" "'Noticed'?" "Say, you may be a smart man, Rudolph Pelz--everybody tells me you are--but they should know once on the Picture Rialto how dumb as a father you are. 'Noticed?' he asks. All right then--if you need a brick house--noticed that David Feist hates your daughter and 'ain't got eyes for her and don't try every excuse to get invited here for sup--dinner." "You mean, Rosie--" "Of course I mean! It's pitiful how he follows her everywhere with his eyes. In the box last night at the opera you was too asleep to see it, but all evening Etta was nudging me how he nearly ate up our Bleema just with looks." "You women with your nonsense!" "I guess, Rudolph, it would be a bad thing. Our daughter and a young man smart enough to make himself from a celluloid collar-cutter to a millionaire five times over on a little thing like inventing a newfangled film-substance should tie up with the only child of Rudolph Pelz, the picture king." "I give you my word, Rosie, such talk makes me sick."