honey. You just try to get away from Al Kessler, and watch him stick. Yep, that's the kind of a fellow I am."
A strange new happiness cast its glow upon Minnie Flynn. It was romance. She said to herself: "I'm stuck on this guy already."
Then the shadow that she had been dreading fell upon them.
How common Billy MacNally looked as he stood there, glowering down at them! His old brown suit was the color of rust, his shoes, with their bull dog toes, were shabby. He wore a frayed brown tie, and a coarse cotton shirt. His hands dangled awkwardly from his sides while the detached cuffs slipping over his wrists added a final touch to his grotesque appearance.
Minnie was confused. "Mr. Kessler," she said, "I'd like to have you meet a friend o' mine, Bil—Mr. MacNally."
"Glad to meet you, MacNally. Won't you join us in a little tête-à-tête?"
"In a what?"
Minnie blushed with mortification. Billy took Al's hand as if it were a shovelful of hot coals.
"Come on, MacNally," Al urged, "Miss Flynn and I have been having a serious little talk here. We need somebody to liven us up a bit. Don't we, honey?" he said turning his back on Billy and winking broadly at Minnie.
"I've been lookin' all over the place for you," Billy said sullenly, 'It's time we was leavin' for home."
"We?" echoed Al with a significant glance from one to the other.
"Yes," Billy was aggressive, "we. Her and I. We come together and we're goin' away together. Now put that in your pipe and smoke it!"
Minnie turned apologetically to Al and her distress was pitiful as she forced a titter into her voice: "Ain't he the
