"Shut up!"
That tonsure was the kind Ben innocently used to acquire, to her horror. Once she and Stella had quarrelled, not speaking for three whole days, because of a similar remark about Ben's foot-wear whose squarish cut, Stella declared, lacked the Huntingdon "class." But Sally had no time for further defence of her sweetheart.
"Oh—how do you do, Phil," she said, then made as if to hurry on, but he cut across the walk in front of her.
"Why what's the matter, Miss Abstraction? Thanks for the cordial welcome to our city!" he bantered with a sarcastic "Br-r-rr" and shiver.
"Oh, I have so many things to do at home, I must hurry back."
"Don't take life so seriously, Sally."
"That's just it, Mr. Huntington, I tell her she's too serious. She's changed a lot," put in Stella, eager to be in the conversation.
"I don't mean to be," apologized Sally, "But really I've been awfully busy and I must hurry back."
"Oh, have a heart, Sally," persisted Philip. "Let me drive you out to the cove. I've just had new shock-absorbers put on my car, they're just invented—pretty nifty, too, and she rides beautifully."
"Oh, do, Sally, it would be fine—let's!" Stella put in her oar, determined to at least occupy the rear-seat, whether asked or not.
"It's very kind of you, Phil, but really I can't—but Stella would love to go."
