``He must be tremendously clever.''

``I've given you an exaggerated idea of him,'' Davy hastened to
say. ``He's really an ordinary sort of chap.''

``I should think he'd get rich,'' said Miss Hastings. ``Most of
the men that do--so far as I've met them-- seem ordinary
enough.''

``He says he could get rich, but that he wouldn't waste time that
way. But he's fond of boasting.''

``You don't think he could make money--after all he did--going to
college and everything?''

``Yes--I guess he could,'' reluctantly admitted Davy. Then in a
burst of candor: ``Perhaps I'm a little jealous of him. If _I_
were thrown on my own resources, I'm afraid I'd make a pretty
wretched showing. But--don't get an exaggerated idea of him.
The things I've told you sound romantic and unusual. If you met
him--saw him every day--you'd realize he's not at all--at least,
not much--out of the ordinary.''

``Perhaps,'' said Miss Hastings shrewdly, ``perhaps I'm getting a
better idea of him than you who see him so often.''

``Oh, you'll run across him sometime,'' said Davy, who was
bearing up no better than would the next man under the strain of
a woman's interest in and excitement about another man. ``When