The whisper was close to his ear, and a gentle breath cooled the back of his neck.
CHAPTER XXIV. THE HEART OF MARJORIE JONES
“Well, what you want?” Penrod asked, brusquely.
Marjorie's wonderful eyes were dark and mysterious, like still water at twilight.
“What makes you behave so AWFUL?” she whispered.
“I don't either! I guess I got a right to do the way I want to, haven't I?”
“Well, anyway,” said Marjorie, “you ought to quit bumping into people so it hurts.”
“Poh! It wouldn't hurt a fly!”
“Yes, it did. It hurt when you bumped Maurice and me that time.”