"Good crowd out to-night, sweetness. They all know us, too." "Yes." "Wanna dance and show 'em we're in condition?" "No, Joe." The music flared suddenly; chairs were pushed back from their tables, leaving food and drink in the attitude of waiting. A bolder couple or two ventured out on the shining floor-space, hesitant like a premonitory ripple on the water before the coming of the wind; another and yet another. And almost instanter there was the intricate maze of a crowded floor--women swaying, men threading in, out, around. "What'll you have to drink, sweetness?" "Lemonade, please." "I know a better one than that." "What?" "Condensed milk!" "Silly! I just can't get used to them bitter-tasting things you try out on me." "You're all right, little Lemonade Girl!" He leaned across the table and peered under the pink sateen. Its reflection lay like a blush of pleasure across her features, and she kept her gaze averted, with a pretty _malaise_ trembling through her. "You're all right, little Peaches and Cream." "You--you're all right, too, Joe." "You mean that, sweetness?" "I mean it if you mean it." "Do I mean it! Say, do I give a little queen like you my company eight nights out of seven for the fun of kiddin' myself along?" "I know you ain't, Joe; that's what I keep tellin' ma." "Sittin' there screwing your lips at me like that! You got a mouth just like--just like red fruit, like a cherry that would bust all over the place if a bird took a peck at it." Her bosom, little as Juliet's, rose to his words, and she giggled after the immemorial fashion of women. "Oh, Joe! If only--if only--if only--" "If only what, sweetness?" "If only--" "Huh?" "Aw, I can't say it." "Whistle it, then, sweetness." "It don't do us no good to talk about things, Joe. We--we never get anywhere." "What's the use o' talking, then, sweetness? Here's your lemonade. I wish I was in the baby-food class--'pon my soul I do! Look, sweetness; this is the stuff, though. Look at its color, will you? Red as a moonshiner's eye! Here, waiter, leave that siphon; I might wanna shoot up the place." "You promised, Joe, not--" "Sure; I ain't goin' to, neither. Did I keep my pool promise? Ain't heard a ball click for weeks! Will I keep this one? Watch! Two's my limit, Peaches. I'd swear off sleepin' if you wanted me to." "Would you, Joe? That's what I want you to tell ma when--" "Aw, there you go again! Honest, the minute a fellow feels hisself warming up inside you begin tryin' to reach up to the church-tower and ring the bells." "Joe!" "Sure you do." "You make me ashamed when you talk like that." "Then cut it, sweetness. Come on; let's finish out this dance." "It worries her so, Joe. She asks and asks till I--I don't know what to say no more when I see her wastin' away and all. I--Gawd, I don't know!"