"Oh, the railroad president? Any family?"
"Why, there isn’t much to say, except people call her the prettiest girl in Carthage--but then they always say that of a millionaire’s daughter--Emma Satterlee would turn the milk sour, and yet in the society notes--"
"Did you ever see her?--No, no, I don’t mean that one--the railroad man’s--the Ladd girl?"
"Yes, I saw her onst in a church fair. She hit _me_ all right. Slender brunette, very aristocracy, with the kind of eyes that if you’re _fond_ of brunettes--seem like--"
"Hell, how do I know! Twenty--twenty-one--something around there. Just a girl."
"And the prettiest one in Carthage?" repeated Adair, sipping his cocktail as though the description pleased him.
"Well, I would leave _my_ happy home for her," said Larry, with a grin. "Pretty--I’d say she was pretty--pretty enough to eat."
"Lives out Chestnut Avenue way, doesn’t she?"
"Yes, in the stone house that’s set back in a kind of park, with a big gate in front and a driveway. The Ladds’ are at the top of the top, you know. My, I felt I was breaking into the swell bunch myself when she told my fortune for a dollar. If I had had the nerve and the money I guess she would be telling it yet! And she smiled so sweet when she took it, like I was as good as anybody. God forgive me if I seem to talk disrespectful of her, for she’s a lady through and through, and I knew it even if I was only a bar-keeper."
"Toss you for the drinks," said Adair, draining his glass. "Hand over the box, Larry."
"Sure Mike," said the bar-keeper rattling the dice.
Adair encountered an acquaintance, a commercial traveler named Hellman, on the sidewalk outside.
"Just the fellow I wanted to see," he cried. "Hellman, there is such a word as temerity, isn’t there?"
"Bet your life," said Hellman. "The temerity of my playing _Hamlet_, you know--the temerity of you thinking yourself a better-looking man than I am--the temerity of--"
"And you spell it t-e-m-e-r-i-t-y?" interrupted Adair.
"Oh, I used it in a letter I was writing to a girl, and I didn’t want to mail it till I was sure." He showed the envelope in his hand, with his thumb hiding the name.
"Always at it," said Hellman, with an unpleasant laugh. "Who are you throwing the handkerchief at now?"