I must live and buy books and clothes, you know." "I'd forgotten that," she laughed.

"Why weren't you born with an income ?" "I'd rather have good health and imagination," he answered.

"I can make good on the income, but the other things have to be made good for--" He almost said "you," then amended his sentence to, "have to be made good for one." "Don't say 'make good,'" she cried, sweetly petulant.

"It's slang, and it's horrid." He flushed, and stammered, "That's right, and I only wish you'd correct me every time." "I--I'd like to," she said haltingly.

"You have so much in you that is good that I want to see you perfect." He was clay in her hands immediately, as passionately desirous of being moulded by her as she was desirous of shaping him into the image of her ideal of man.