A single glance at the graceful script, however, changed his expression.
He sat back and stared at Warrington.
"What's the matter ?" Bennington did not answer, but settled down to his task, reading carefully and slowly.

He did not look for any signature, for he knew there would be none.

He returned the letter, his face sober, but his eyes dancing.
"Now, what the deuce do you see that is so amusing ?" "Oh, nothing." "Don't tell me there isn't any romance in the world.

But, hang it, Jack, I'm not worth a letter like that," earnestly.
"Of course not." "I'm not jesting.

I've sown wild oats, and God knows what the harvest will be.