"You could have mine, if you weren't twice the size for it, and if Anthony Comstock wouldn't run me in if he saw what I've got on underneath. But I guess you wouldn't have to wish twice for a coat, if 'twas in your part."
"My part?" repeated Val.
"If the piece you're in called for it."
"I don't understand."
They were both sitting down now, filling the far corners of the bench, and talking across it.
"Well, 'tain't my show. I don't want to be fresh. But though I've seen a lot o' night-bloomin' plants growin' in this flower garden, I don't just recall seein' one like you take root."
"You wouldn't now, if I had anywhere else to go," returned Loveland, with his usual frankness.
"Gee! You take me for the fall guy. But say, do you want anything out o' me? 'Cause, if you do, you can have it. If you're a journalist out on a night stunt, and what you're fishin' for is the history o' my life, I'm on, for Shakespeare's sake. Any form you like, sad or gay, moral lesson or otherwise."
"Hang journalists!"
"Think so? Well, millionaire then, seein' how the poor live. You look the swell all right."