"Wrinkles don't come because you want them, but because you don't."
"Well, old chap, I'm sure something is worrying you. Can I help you in any way?" went on his generous friend.
"Thanks, Doug; you can help me to another lump of sugar."
"The devil take you," cried Converse, handing him the bowl. "Say," he said, a moment later, watching Jud as he calmly buttered his bread, "I believe there's a woman in it."
"A woman!" exclaimed the other, almost dropping his knife. For an instant his gray eyes seemed to look through the other's brain. "What are you driving at, Doug?" he went on, controlling himself.
"I'm next to you at last, old man. You're in a deuce of a boat. You're in love."
"And if I were, I can't see why I should have to hire a boat."
"It's all right to talk that way, but you are in the boat, just the same. Maybe it's a raft, though, and maybe you're shipwrecked. You are one of these unlucky dogs who find out that they love the second girl after having promised to marry the first one. The size of it is, you've about forgotten the little Indiana girl you were telling me about." For a whole minute Jud stared at him, white to the lips.
"You have no right to talk like that, Converse," he said, hoarsely.
"I beg pardon, Jud; I didn't mean to offend. Honestly now, I was talking to hear myself talk," cried the other.