"Well, I can't deny it," said Jud, ashamed of his equivocation.
"Tell me about her," cried his friend, enthusiastically.
"There's nothing to tell. I had a letter from her to-day."
"Then it's still on?"
"I hope so," answered Jud, smiling mysteriously.
"You're devilishly uncommunicative. If I had a sweetheart who could make me live up to a promise like that, I'd be only too glad to sing her praises to the sky."
"Fall in love with some good, true girl, old fellow, and see how much you'll tell the world about it," said Jud, cleverly dodging the point.
"I am in love and with the best girl in the world, but what good does it do me? She's not in love with me. Confound the luck, I'm younger than she is," cried Converse, ruefully. Sherrod laughed and puffed dreamily at his cigar for a few moments.
"It's a crime to be young, I presume," he said, as if obliged to reopen the conversation. Converse was standing at his desk, looking at a photograph.
"Don't give up because you are young. You'll outgrow it. I was very young when—when—I mean, I was younger than you by several years when I first fell in love," went on Jud confusedly.