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Strumley's voice vibrated determinedly, "I said I wished to speak with you. I can explain everything." She halted reluctantly, and partly turned. In a moment he was at her side, his hand upon her arm. His glance had in it all the compelling strength of unadulterated, pristine manhood. She seemed to feel its potency, and without remonstrance suffered him to lead her toward the machine.
Strumley leaped from his bed to the bath-tub, and fluttered frolicsomely in the crystal tide. When he sprang out there was the flush of vigorous young manhood on his skin and the glow of an expectant lover's ardency in his breast. Everything was arranged satisfactorily in the space beneath Mr. Strumley's water-tousled hair, wherein sat the goddess of human happiness reason. Mr.
The voice of the childless banker faded off in the distance, its last echo drowned in the full-throated: "Bettina, we are going to be married at once," that broke joyously from Mr. Strumley's lips. "I have followed the example of the Romans, and taken me a wife from the Sabines." Bettina peeped up at him from beneath the dark screens of her lashes.
Crossing the street, not twenty yards ahead, tripped the most dangerous one conceivable the beautiful Bettina herself! Mr. Strumley's hand fell limply to his knee. Fascinated he watched her reach the curb and with a little skip spring to the pavement. Then she came straight toward him; but he could see she was blissfully oblivious of his nearness.
His voice was almost irresistible in the force of its parental summons. At the sound of it the primeval lover, newly renascent in Mr. Strumley's breast, cowed before the power of genitorial insistency. Then it came back into its own exultantly. "Bettina, my darling, get in," he commanded. She faltered, turned rebelliously, turned again and obeyed. "Bettina!"
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