"You had better ask Fisher." "Oh, rats!" cried Charlie vehemently.

"Fisher, I'll break your head with this racquet if you give my show away.

Come along! I believe the moon has contracted a romantic habit of rising over the sea when the sun sets.

Let's go and----" "I'll tell you, Molly," broke in Bertie, linking a firm arm in Charlie's to keep him quiet.

"He can't break his host's head, you know.