coy, clever fellows is going to get it, and get it good, and I am
glad of it. My hat's off.

Say, Jim, I'm not much for these love stories in the books. They
are liable to mislead a fellow. You read how Benton Brockway,
the hero, looks into pretty Bessie Bell's blue eyes, places his
hand on her shapely shoulder, and tells her how he loves her.
Even her downcast eye doesn't hide the pearly tear as she answers
"Yes." Now, I can look into their eyes for four hours, and I can
tell them how I love them till I am black in the face, and they
seem to like it; but whenever I come to the laying of the hand on
the shapely shoulder part, it's all off. I am told that I am no
gentleman, and to roll my hoop out of that house forever. What's
a fellow going to do? You can never tell whether a girl is really
sore or whether she is stalling. A girl might be for a fellow
strong, and yet she wouldn't admit it for a thousand dollars.
There may be some things I wouldn't admit for a thousand, but I
don't just recall them at the present time. It only goes to show
that things are not always what they seem. Many a girl wears a
sailor hat who doesn't own a yacht.

Just to show you what a chance a man has nowadays: The other
night I went out to see a certain girl. Won't mention any names.
Never do, sober. She made what she called a Robert E. Lee punch
out of apple brandy and stuff. Well, sir, after I had hit three
Robert E. Lees, I could see waving green fields and fruit-laden
orchards, and kind-faced old cows standing in silvery streams of
water. I couldn't remember of owing a cent, and the drawing-room
lamp looked like a flood of golden sunshine. Jim, I have never
been against the pipe, because I'm too young, but if it beats the