said merely, "We ought to be getting along, Eunice. It's glmost two-thirty."
When Eunice had disappeared into her room again and returned, she was still wearing the coat. "I've got to," she declared. "I'll probably wilt, but I can't go without it." She had pinned an artificial orchid on the collar, and her pert felt hat was orchid-colored. She looked extremely well, and knew it. There was a pause while she stood pulling on her gloves and smiling up at Jock—smiling an unmistakable invitation. Jock retaliated somewhat pointedly by opening the front—door and awaiting her on the porch, in full view of a dozen passing people.
"Brad's been gone since ten o'clock this mornin'," Eunice remarked as they started for the game in the roadster. "I declare, bein' married to a coach isn't any fun at all durin' football season. He's out most of the day, and when he does get home at night he's too tiahed to take me any place so I just sit at home like a bump on a log." Her voice rasped unpleasantly; a drawl can so easily deteriorate into a whine. She added, "Of course I'm always hopin' my friends will drop in to see me, but they nevah seem to."
"I've been busy as the devil," said Jock, taking this, as it was meant, personally.
"Who's the girl you asked to the game today and who couldn't come? Brad told me you seemed quite broken-hearted."
"Yvonne Mountford, her name is."
"Is she attractive?"
"Wonderful, yes." A desire to annoy Eunice, with whom he was himself more than usually annoyed at the moment, prompted Jock to continue in this strain. "I don't think I've ever seen a more attractive girl in my life. She's unique. She has red hair—sort of a
