"Then, I say, if you still feel as you do, not even they have the right to interfere." "Promise us, Bleema; promise us that!" "I--I'll be engaged on your word of honor--without any fussing about it?" "An engaged girl, Miss Bleema, like any other engaged girl." "But dad--look at him--he won't--p-promise," trembling into tears. "Of course he will--won't you, Pelz? And you know the reputation your father has for a man of his word." "Will--will he promise?" "You do; don't you, Pelz?" Again the nod from the bitter inverted features. "Now, Miss Bleema?" "Well then, I--I--p-promise." On a May-day morning that was a kiss to the cheek and even ingratiated itself into the bale-smelling, truck-rumbling pier-shed, Mr. Lester Spencer, caparisoned for high seas by Fifth Avenue's highest haberdasher, stood off in a little cove of bags and baggage, yachting-cap well down over his eyes, the nattiest thing in nautical ulsters buttoned to the chin. Beside him, Miss Norma Beautiful, her small-featured pink-and-whiteness even smaller and pinker from the depths of a great cart-wheel of rose-colored hat, completely swathed in rose-colored veiling. "For a snap of my finger I'd spill the beans--that's how stuck on this situation I am!" Mr. Spencer plunged emphatic arms into large patch-pockets, his chin projecting beyond the muffle of collar. "Just you try it and see where it lands you!" Then Miss Beautiful from the rosy depths of hat began to quiver of voice, jerky little sobs catching her up. "I can't stand it! I b-bit off a b-bigger piece than I can swallow." "Now, Darling Beautiful, I ask you would your own Lester do anything that wasn't just going to be the making of his girl as well as himself? Is it anything, Angel Beautiful, he is asking you to do except wait until--" "I can't bear it, I tell you! A little red-haired kike like her! How do I know what I'm letting myself in for? There's only one ground for divorce in this state. What guarantee have I you'll get free on it?" "My guarantee, Pussy. You're letting yourself in for a pink limousine to match that pink sweetness of yours and a jumping-rope of pearls to match those sweet teeth of yours and--" "I want black pearls, Lester, like Lucille Du Pont's." "Black, then. Why, Angel Beautiful, you just know that there's not a hair on any head in the world, much less a red one, I'd change for one of my girl's golden ones. You think I'd ever have known the little Reddie was on earth if she hadn't just flung herself at my head! She could have been six Rudolph Pelz's daughters, and I wouldn't have had eyes for her." "But, Lester--she--she's right cute. What guarantee have I got?" "Cross my heart and swear to die, Angel! Haven't I already sworn it to you a thousand thousand times? You wouldn't want me to close my eyes to the chance of a lifetime--you know you wouldn't, Beautiful, when it's your chance as much as mine. Both ours!" "I--if only it was--over, Lester--all--over!"