"I'll keep the mug.

But, still, I don't see why Billie Hawker----" "I shall take the mug," reiterated Florinda firmly.
"But I don't see why----" "Let her alone, Grief," said Wrinkles.

"She has decided that it is heroic.

You can't move her now." "Well, who is going for the potato salad ?" cried Pennoyer again.

"That's what I want to know." "Wrinkles," said Grief.
"Grief," said Wrinkles.
"Do you know," remarked Florinda, raising her head from where she had been toiling over the _spaghetti_, "I don't care so much for Billie Hawker as I did once ?" Her sleeves were rolled above the elbows of her wonderful arms, and she turned from the stove and poised a fork as if she had been smitten at her task with this inspiration.
There was a short silence, and then Wrinkles said politely, "No." "No," continued Florinda, "I really don't believe I do." She suddenly started.