And that is--that I love this girl better than my life and I'm going to marry her." He waited with a fierce hurt challenge in his eyes for irreverence and incredulity and even perhaps good-natured jeers, but Garry, sensing something big and unfamiliar, held out his hand.

Kenny wrung it in passionate relief.
"What's my balance ?" he demanded.
"I'm sorry I forgot that, Kenny.

It's eight hundred and forty odd dollars." "As usual," bristled Kenny, "they're lying." Garry refused to discuss the point.
"And Brian, another Irish lunatic!" he marveled, shaking his head.
"Did Max write you the name of the French woman ?" "Yes.

'Twas a Madame Morny.

I've written her.