"That's all under the sun they needed--just somebody to set 'em thinking about the other side.

You're a real good speaker; seems to me you ought to study to be a preacher." Thurston's face turned red.

But presently he forgot everything in his amazement, for Mona the dignified, Mona of the scornful eyes and the chilly smile, actually giggled--giggled like any ordinary girl, and shot him a glance that had in it pure mirth and roguish teasing, and a dash of coquetry.

He sat down and giggled with her, feeling idiotically happy and for no reason under the sun that he could name.
He had promised his conscience that he would go home to the Lazy Eight in the morning, but he didn't; he somehow contrived, overnight, to invent a brand new excuse for his conscience to swallow or not, as it liked.

Hank Graves had the same privilege; as for the Stevens trio, he blessed their hospitable souls for not wanting any excuse whatever for his staying.