dered to a polo pony that I couldn't afford and intended to buy anyhow. Then McKnight shook off his taciturnity.
"For Heaven's sake, don't look so martyred," I he burst out; "I know you've done all the traveling this summer. I know you're missing a game to-morrow. But don't be a patient mother; confound it, I have to go to Richmond on Sunday. I—I want to see a girl."
"Oh, don't mind me," I observed politely. "Personally, I wouldn't change places with you. What's her name—North? South?"
"West," he snapped. "Don't try to be funny. And all I have to say, Blakeley, is that if you ever fall in love I hope you make an egregious ass of yourself."
In view of what followed, this came rather close to prophecy.
The trip west was without incident. I played bridge with a furniture dealer from Grand Rap ids, a sales agent for a Pittsburg iron firm and a young professor from an eastern college. I won three rubbers out of four, finished what cigarettes McKnight had left me, and went to
