A Fool and His Money

by George Barr McCutcheon

She smiled too merrily, I thought. "You must not tell any one else about it, however."

"I can promise that," I said, a sullen rage in my soul. "Devils could not drag it out of me. Rest easy."

It occurred to me afterwards that she laughed rather jerkily, you might say uneasily. At any rate, she turned away and began speaking to Max.

"Have you had your breakfast?" I asked stupidly.

"No."

"Neither have I. Will you join me?"

"Isn't it getting to be a habit?"

"Breakfast or—you?"

"Breakfast and me."

"I confess, my dear Countess, that I like you for breakfast," I said gallantly.