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To Him That Hath: a Tale of the West of Today by Pseudonym Ralph Connor
page 19 of 328 (05%)
"By Jove, Patsy, you're right on the target. You've scored again."

"Oh, I'm not saying just what I want--but I hope you know what I mean."

"Your meaning hits me right in the eye. And you are quite right.
The tennis court is no place for a fight, eh? And, after all, Rupert
Stillwell is no Hun."

"But you haven't been playing this summer at all, Captain Jack," said
the girl, changing the subject. "Why not?" The girl's tone was quite
severe. "And you don't do a lot of things you used to do, and you don't
go to places, and you are different." The blue eyes earnestly searched
his face.

"Am I different?" he asked slowly. "Well, everybody is different. And
then, you know, I am busy. A business man has his hours and he must
stick to them."

"Oh, I don't believe you a bit. You don't need to be down at the mills
all the time. Look at Rupert. He doesn't need to be at his father's
office."

"Apparently not."

"He gets off whenever he wants to."

"Looks like it."

"And why can't you?"

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