“Yes,” said Marie, “I guess I made a mistake, all right.”
“Sure! But you seen it and backed up. And a good thing you did. Look what he'd of brought you to by now, if you'd stuck!”
Marie tilted back her head and looked up at the tall row of eucalyptus trees feathered against the stars. “What?” she asked uninterestedly.
“Well—I don't want to knock, especially a fellow that's on the toboggan already. But I know a little girl that's aw-fully lucky, and I'm honest enough to say so.”
“Why?” asked Marie obligingly. “Why—in particular?”
“Why in particular?” Joe leaned toward her. “Say, you must of heard how Bud's going to the dogs. If you haven't, I don't want—”
“No, I hadn't heard,” said Marie, looking up at the Big Dipper so that her profile, dainty and girlish still, was revealed like a cameo to Joe. “Is he? I love to watch the stars, don't you?”
“I love to watch a star,” Joe breathed softly. “So you hadn't heard how Bud's turned out to be a regular souse? Honest, didn't you know it?”
“No, I didn't know it,” said Marie boredly. “Has he?”
“Well, say! You couldn't tell it from the real thing! Believe me, Bud's some pickled bum, these days. I run across him up in the mountains, a month or so ago. Honest, I was knocked plumb silly—much as I knew about Bud that you never knew, I never thought he'd turn out quite so—” Joe paused, with a perfect imitation of distaste for his subject. “Say, this is great, out here,” he murmured, tucking the robe around her with that tender protectiveness which stops just short of being proprietary. “Honest, Marie, do you like it?”