He remarked with the diplomatic unconcern that it was best to employ with her:-- "Refused the offer, did you, Miss Farrell ?" "I certainly did.

As between a fat old sport like Ed Thatcher and a gentleman like Mr.Bassett, money doesn't count--not even with a p.w.g., or poor working girl, like me.

Hush!--are we quite alone ?" She bent toward the door dramatically.

"What he was playing for, as neat as a hatpin in your loved one's eye, was some facts about the boss's committee work in that last session I worked at the State House.

Cute of Thatcher?
Well, not so awful bright! He doesn't know what he's up against if he thinks Mort Bassett can be caught on flypaper, and you can be dead sure I'm not going to sprinkle the sugar to catch our boss with.
All that Transportation Committee business was just as straight as the way home; but"-- Miss Farrell tapped her mouth daintily with her fingers to stifle an imaginary yawn--"but little Rose brought down her shorthand notebooks marked 'M.B.