Names don't always signify, my dear fellow.

For instance, I know a 'Billy'-- but he's a girl." Calderwell gave a sudden start.
"You don't mean Billy--Neilson ?" The other turned sharply.
"Do _you_ know Billy Neilson ?" Calderwell gave his friend a glance from scornful eyes.
"Do I know Billy Neilson ?" he cried.

"Does a fellow usually know the girl he's proposed to regularly once in three months?
Oh, I know I'm telling tales out of school, of course," he went on, in response to the look that had come into the brown eyes opposite.

"But what's the use?
Everybody knows it--that knows us.

Billy herself got so she took it as a matter of course--and refused as a matter of course, too; just as she would refuse a serving of apple pie at dinner, if she hadn't wanted it." "Apple pie!" scouted Arkwright.
Calderwell shrugged his shoulders.
"My dear fellow, you don't seem to realize it, but for the last six months you have been assisting at the obsequies of a dead romance." "Indeed! And is it--buried, yet ?" "Oh, no," sighed Calderwell, cheerfully.