“We would go to jail together,” said jolly little pal.
“But I won’t have you go to jail. It’s preposterous.”
“Maybe I deserve it,” she remarked, “for having ‘peached.’ I hope,” wistfully, “our cells will be close together. Did you have a nice dance with Miss Gerald?”
“Give it to me,” commanded Bob sternly. “If you don’t, I’ll—I’ll take it from you.”
But she put her hand behind her. “Isn’t Gwendoline the most beautiful thing in the world?” she said. “We’ll talk about her in jail. It’ll help pass the time.”
“Give—”
“I’m not the least bit jealous, because now I’m only your really-truly little pal,” she went on. “I wish I could be your best man. But I don’t suppose that’s feasible.”
“Give—”
“I might swallow it,” she observed tentatively.
“Great heavens!” he reached for her hand.