figure it all over, there's nothing to that jealousy thing. I used
to be Billy Brighteyes, and sneak out to my regular's home, thinking
that perhaps I would catch some one else there. What do I do now?
Why, I telephone that I will be out in thirty minutes. What you
don't know won't hurt you.

Jim, what has ever become of that girl you were so crazy about
a couple of years ago? I guess maybe she didn't put a dent into
your heart that a person could drive a four-in-hand into and never
touch the sides, a regular Hoosac Tunnel. Then when she had you
all ribbed up and done to a turn, she said, "I love Mr. Hawkins
and Mr. Hawkins loves me. Good by, Jim; take care of yourself."
You couldn't have gotten a better jolt on the B. & 0. You will
pardon my suppressed merriment, but that girl certainly made you
look like a trailer. Never mind, Jim, old pal, we have all had a
crimp put into us at one time or another, and if you work hard and
observe good hours you'll get over it in four or five years. It's
nothing at all.

I have often thought I would land a girl with coin, blow business,
and sit around for a while. It would be great to have your own
hearthstone with a couple of registered St. Bernard's lying around,
and here and there a golden-haired darling romping and playing
with a bottle of paregoric. But somehow or other I always fall
down. Now, take that Katherine Clark, who has been visiting the
Hemingways for the past month. When she first came I said to
myself, "Billy, my boy, here's your chance; break in and cop out
an heiress." So I sicked myself on to her. Well, you know I'm
not a piker. I went after her right. Eats, drinks, shows, and
all the expensive things. I touched Johnny Black's brother-in-law