“Humph! Say, Loosh, may I ask you a purely personal question? Will you promise not to be offended if I do?”
“Eh? Why, of course, Cousin Gussie. Of course. Dear me, ask anything you like.”
“All right. Loosh, are you in love with Miss Phipps?”
Galusha started so violently as to throw him off his balance upon the fence rail. He slid forward until his feet touched the ground. His coat-tails, however, caught upon a projecting knot and the garment remained aloft, a crumpled bundle, between his shoulder blades and the back of his neck. He was not aware of it. His face expressed only one emotion, great astonishment. And as his cousin watched, that expression slowly changed to bewilderment and dawning doubt.
“Well, how about it?” queried Cabot. “Are you in love with her, Loosh?”
Galusha's mouth opened. “Why—good gracious!” he gasped. “Dear me—ah—Why—why, I don't know.”
The banker had expected almost any sort of reply, except that.
“You don't KNOW!” he repeated.
“No, I—I don't. I—I never thought of such a thing.”
Cousin Gussie slowly shook his head.