"More than you've got? Gee! Then you can't have anything at all."
It was not so much a taunt as it was a statement, and yet it was a statement with a little taunt in it. For once driven to bravado, he gave away a secret.
"Well, I haven't—except what's in the bank."
"Oh, you've got money in the bank, have you?"
"Sure! But I'm keeping it to go to college."
She stared at him as if he had been a duck-billed rabbit, or some variety of fauna hitherto unknown.
"Gee! I should think a fellow who had money in the bank would want to blow some of it on having a good time—a fellow with any jazz."
Once more she spared him discomfiture. Slipping into the hallway, she said over her shoulder as he followed her: "How old are you?"
"Sixteen."