"Say, for an old friend, I can be my own self." "Can we break the receiving-line now, Lester honey, and go down with everybody? The Sinsheimers and their crowd over there by themselves, we ought to show we appreciate their coming." Mr. Goldmark twisted high in his collar, cupping her small bare elbow in his hand. "That's what I say, lovey; let's break. Come, mother Coblenz, let's step down on high society's corns." "Lester!" "You and Selene go down with the crowd, Lester. I want to take gramaw to rest for a while before we go home. The manager says we can have room fifty-six by the elevator for her to rest in." "Get her some newspapers, ma, and I brought her a wreath down to keep her quiet. It's wrapped in her shawl." Her skirts delicately lifted, Miss Coblenz stepped down off the dais. With her cloud of gauze scarf enveloping her, she was like a tulle-clouded "Springtime," done in the key of Botticelli. "Oop-si-lah, lovey-dovey!" said Mr. Goldmark, tilting her elbow for the downward step. "Oop-si-lay, dovey-lovey!" said Miss Coblenz, relaxing to the support. Gathering up her plentiful skirts, Mrs. Coblenz stepped off, too, but back toward the secluded chair beside the potted hydrangea. A fine line of pain, like a cord tightening, was binding her head, and she put up two fingers to each temple, pressing down the throb. "Mrs. Coblenz, see what I got for you!" She turned, smiling. "You don't look like you need salad and green ice-cream. You look like you needed what I wanted--a cup of coffee." "Aw, Mr. Haas--now where in the world--aw, Mr. Haas!" With a steaming cup outheld and carefully out of collision with the crowd, Mr. Haas unflapped a napkin with his free hand, inserting his foot in the rung of a chair and dragging it toward her. "Now," he cried, "sit and watch me take care of you!" There comes a tide in the affairs of men when the years lap softly, leaving no particular inundations on the celebrated sands of time. Between forty and fifty, that span of years which begin the first slight gradations from the apex of life, the gray hair, upstanding like a thick-bristled brush off Mr. Haas's brow, had not so much as whitened, or the slight paunchiness enhanced even the moving-over of a button. When Mr. Haas smiled, his mustache, which ended in a slight but not waxed flourish, lifted to reveal a white-and-gold smile of the artistry of careful dentistry, and when, upon occasion, he threw back his head to laugh, the roof of his mouth was his own. He smiled now, peering through gold-rimmed spectacles attached by a chain to a wire-encircled left ear. "Sit," he cried, "and let me serve you!" Standing there with a diffidence which she could not crowd down, Mrs. Coblenz smiled through closed lips that would pull at the corners. "The idea, Mr. Haas--going to all that trouble!" "'Trouble,' she says! After two hours hand-shaking in a swallowtail, a man knows what real trouble is!"