"I wonder if he is happy," said Brower, thoughtfully running his thumb-nail along the teeth of his tortoise-shell comb.
"He tried hard enough to be," answered his room-mate, running his thumb along the teeth of his comb.
Brower sighed and looked with frank but troubled eyes into his friend's face. "Too hard, perhaps."
The other returned his glance in kind. "I'm afraid so," he breathed.
"He figured it all out beforehand," said Brower. "We talked a good deal on the subject generally."
"That sort of thing doesn't always pay."
"We considered the rich girl and the poor girl," Brower went on. "But there's another kind of girl that we both failed to take account of."
"What kind is that?"
"The girl in very moderate circumstances who has spent all her time in going about among wealthy relatives and friends."
"The poor princess who makes the grand chain of other people's castles?"