Ballard paused a moment to light a fresh cigarette.
"Bah!" I muttered contemptuously.
He looked over at me thoughtfully. "You may sneer, Pope, my boy," he commented. "But this sort of thing has come to stay. The infants are imbibing it with their bottles—self-expression, self-analysis and all that."
"But this girl is dangerous," I remarked.
"I imagine she is," he said calmly. "At any rate, she's going to prove or disprove your precious hypothesis."
"I'm not afraid for Jerry," I growled. "No chameleon will change his color. What else did she say?"
"She was very much pleased at Jerry's compliment.
"'Someone has taught you to be very polite,' she said with a smile.
"'Polite?' asked Jerry. 'Merely because I was hoping you weren't flabby?'
"'Well, I'm not flabby,' she smiled indulgently. 'I hate flabby people.'