"I'd just put out the lights in the library when you came in. You stopped in front of the hall mirror, and said:
"Beautiful Evelyn Gray is dead
Come and sit by her side an hour."
"I didn't," I exclaimed indignantly.
My father began to chuckle all over like Santa Claus in the Christmas poem.
"You mean beautiful Evelyn Hope, don't you?" I asked.
"Gray was the name."
"I'd like to know what you were doing up so late?"
"Oh, we had a big night—three tables of bridge and one of poker. I sat up late to count my winnings."
"How much did you drop, as a matter of fact?"
"Only about eighty."