I told him a week, and he grunted something under his breath about female fortune-hunters.

I couldn't see what he was driving at, for I certainly should never think of accusing Edith and her mother of being that especial brand of abhorrence, but he was in a bitter mood, and I wouldn't argue with him then--I had troubles of my own to think of.

I was beginning to call myself several kinds of a fool for letting a girl--however wonderful her eyes--give me bad half-hours quite so frequently; the thing had never happened to me before, and I had known hundreds of nice girls--approximately.

When a fellow goes through a co-ed course, and has a dad whom the papers call financier, he gets a speaking-acquaintance with a few girls.

The trouble with me was, I never gave the whole bunch as much thought as I was giving to Beryl King--and the more I thought about her, the less satisfaction there was in the thinking.
I waited a day or two, and then practically ran away from my work and rode over to that little butte.