“Why shouldn't he write to me?” I asked, tartly.
“But—but HIM—writin' to YOU!”
“Humph! Even a god stoops once in a while. Read your mythology, Lute.”
“Hey? Say, look here, what are you swearin' about?”
“Swearing? Oh, that's all right. The god I referred to was a heathen one.”
“Well, it's a good thing Dorindy didn't hear you; she's down on swearin', heathen or any other kind. But what did Mr. Colton write to you for?”
“He says he wants to see me.”
“See you? What for?”
“Don't know. Perhaps he wants to borrow money.”
“Borrow—! I believe you're crazy!”