"I don't suppose you hear it very often." "Not in that form," admitted Ryder.
Shirley had taken on to her lap some of the letters he had passed her, and was perusing them one after another.
"All these letters from Washington consulting you on politics and finance--they won't interest the world." "My secretary picked them out," explained Ryder.

"Your artistic sense will tell you what to use." "Does your son still love this girl?
I mean the one you object to ?" inquired Shirley as she went on sorting the papers.
"Oh, no, he does not care for her any more," answered Ryder hastily.
"Yes, he does; he still loves her," said Shirley positively.
"How do _you_ know ?" asked Ryder amazed.
"From the way you say he doesn't," retorted Shirley.
Ryder gave his caller a look in which admiration was mingled with astonishment.
"You are right again," he said.

"The idiot does love the girl." "Bless his heart," said Shirley to herself.

Aloud she said: "I hope they'll both outwit you." Ryder laughed in spite of himself.

This young woman certainly interested him more than any other he had ever known.
"I don't think I ever met anyone in my life quite like you," he said.
"What's the objection to the girl ?" demanded Shirley.
"Every objection.