"More's the pity," she replied dryly.
Enthusiastically he went on:
"Bascom Cooley is the great American legal genius—he never loses a case. If I thought it would please you I'd cut out the brass band effects and put some soft pedal polish on my manners. You wouldn't believe it, would you? I almost graduated, that is, I nearly took a degree. I can slow down to society speed if I want to."
"Whatever you are, be yourself," smiled Paula gently.
"Then you like me as I am, eh?" he grinned. "Well, that's a good start!"
"Let us go, please," said Paula, embarrassed at the personal tone the conversation had taken. "When I think that a noble-hearted, self-sacrificing friend is in prison because he tried to help me—I—feel I ought to share his prison cell with him. Let us go to him at once."
"Say, I'd go to jail for the rest of my life if you'd share my cell with me," he said, with mock heroism.
Paula laughed.
"I think you said you'd cut out the brass band effects, Tod."
"That's right," he replied. "I'm an extremist. When I like anybody I—I don't know where to stop. Ricaby is a good fellow, and he's entitled to anything you can say about him."