"I consider it unprofessional.

Help yourself as liberally as your digestion will stand--and for Heaven's sake, gossip a little! Tell me all about that bunch of nifty lads I see cavorting around the store occasionally--and especially about the polysyllabic gentleman who seems to hang out at the Peaceful Hart ranch.

I'm terribly taken with him.
He--excuse me, chicken.

There's a fellow down the line hollering his head off.

Wait till I see what he wants." Again she left the rug, stepped to the telegraph instrument, and fingered the key daintily until she had, with the other hand, turned down the "out" card.