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If you want me,
Louis, it's got to be with her, too. I couldn't give up my baby--not my
baby."
"Why, Carrie, have your baby to your heart's content! She's got to be a
fine girl to have you for a mother, and now it will be my duty to please
her as a father. Carrie, will you have me?"
"Oh, Louis--Loo!"
"Carrie, my dear!"
And so it was that Carrie Samstag and Louis Latz came into their
betrothal.
* * * * *
None the less, it was with some misgivings and red lights burning high
on her cheek bones that Mrs. Samstag at just after ten that evening
turned the knob of the door that entered into her little sitting room.
The usual horrific hotel room of tight green-plush upholstery,
ornamental portieres on brass rings that grated, and the equidistant
French engravings of lavish scrollwork and scroll frames.
But in this case a room redeemed by an upright piano with a
green-silk-and-gold-lace-shaded floor lamp glowing by. Two gilt-framed
photographs and a cluster of ivory knickknacks on the white mantel.


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