"
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.
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