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Updated: July 22, 2025
Interested mothers elbowed for the most desirable veranda rockers; the blather of voices, the emph-umph-umph of the three-nights-a-week orchestra and the remote pound of the ocean joined in united effort. At eight o'clock Miss Myra Sternberger yawned in her wicker rocker and raised two round and bare-to-the-elbow arms high above her head. "Gee!" she said.
"Howdy-do, Miss Sternberger?" His arm squirmed free from the deadlock clutch. "Won't you join us?" "Thanks," said Myra, smiling until an amazing quantity of small white teeth showed; "but I just stopped by to tell Bella that Mrs. Blondheim was askin' for her." There was a third pause. "Won't you come along, Mr. Arnheim?
"Ain't you ashamed to keep such late hours, Miss Blondheim?" said Mr. Arnheim. "I don't see no early-to-bed-early-to-rise medals on none of us," she said, diffidently. "These thummer rethorts sure ain't no plathe for a minither's thon," said Mr. Epstein. Laughter. "Remember, Mr. Arnheim, whoever's up first wait in the leather chair opposite the elevator." "Sure thing, Miss Sternberger."
Then she bowed slightly and turned toward the door. Mrs. Schlimberg laid a detaining hand on her sleeve. "Just a minute, Miss Sternberger. Mr. Arnheim's brought in some models he wants us to look at." Physics can answer whence goes the candle-flame when it vanishes into blackness and what becomes of sound when the great maw of silence digests it.
"Nothin' like that," she said; "but, anyway, there's always room for one more." Two young men without hats passed. Miss Sternberger called out her greeting. "Hello, Manny! Wasn't the water grand? What? Well, you tell Leo he don't know nothin'. No, we don't want to have our pictures taken! Mr. Arnheim, I want to introduce you to Mr. Landauer, a neckwear man out of Baltimore, and Mr.
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