With his hands in his pockets, Bobby sauntered across to the sofa where she was sitting. There he stood contemplating her for a moment. Then he settled himself at her side.
"Well," he said slowly; "I believe I might as well ask you now."
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
"I almost made a whole poem about you," Bobby said to Thayer, one night. Thayer laughed.
"How far did you get?"
"The last line."
"Then you actually did make one."
Bobby shook his head.