"Perhaps—but, pshaw! what's the use of mentioning that. I know there is nothing in it."
"What, Phil?"
"I don't think I ought to say anything—I know it's absurd, Dave."
"What is absurd?"
"Why—er—that is, you know Roger thinks a lot of Vera Rockwell, don't you?"
"Does he? I hadn't noticed it particularly—in fact, I thought he treated her rather coolly the day we played the game with the Comets."
"That was because you were around."
"Because I was around?" repeated Dave, in a puzzled way.
"Exactly."
"I don't catch your meaning, Phil."
"I don't see why you are so thick, Dave."
"Am I thick?"
"You are."
"Well, then, tell me what you mean."
"Didn't I just say that Roger thought a whole lot of Vera Rockwell?"
"Well?"
"And weren't you with Vera, Mary, and myself after the game?"
"Yes, but"
"When Roger saw you talking to Vera, he walked away in the coldest manner possible."
"Oh, but, Phil, that is absurd. Hadn't I a
