"Kid," I says to Roberts, still sniffin' the perfume she left in the air, "for a damsel like that I would cut off both arms with my face wreathed in smiles!"
"You'd find yourself at a disadvantage, then, if you won her," he grins, gettin' into his citizen's clothes. "She certainly appears to be a charming girl, and I wish you luck!"
"Wish me luck?" I sighs—ain't love tough, hey? "Why, I got the same identical chance of makin' Miss Stillwell as I have of bein' elected the next king of England by acclamation!"
"Look here," says the Kid, stoppin' in the midst of combin' his hair and comin' over to lay his hands on my shoulders. "Don't ever let me hear you talk in that strain again! I've known you now for almost four years—we've been together, fair weather and foul. My success has rested more than once upon your honesty, judgment, and courage. You assume a hard-boiled cynicism, but you're a darn big fraud, old fellow, and the finer things of life have as strong an appeal to you as they do to the 'drawing-room set' that you pretend to ridicule. You're a he-man, with the heart of, no doubt, your mother, and if you had a single fundamental weakness of character you never could have hidden it from me, during what we've been through since I got into this infernal game! I know you better than you do yourself—far better—and if you were my brother I'm sure I'd boast of the relationship. So don't patronize yourself old boy; you're as good as the next one and better than most. If Joan Stillwell is to be the one, she is a very fortunate young woman!"
Even though I knew they was none of the above true,
