“Thank you, you know. And the address?”
“I haven’t any cards here.”
“Oh, but I have.” And Barth hastily took out his cardcase. Then, with infinite difficulty, he focussed upon a card the tip of the little gold pencil that dangled from his watchchain.
Nancy dictated the address. Then she laughed.
“The idea of tying your pencil to you!” she commented irreverently.
“Why not? Then one doesn’t lose it, you know.”
“Yes, I do know. It reminds me of the way I used to have my mittens sewed to the ends of a piece of braid,” Nancy responded.
Barth looked up from his half-written card.
“Really? How interesting! But, Miss Howard—” He halted abruptly.
“What now?”