"Just the fellow I wanted to see," he cried. "Hellman, there is such a word as temerity, isn't there?"
"Bet your life," said Hellman. "The temerity of my playing Hamlet, you know--the temerity of you thinking yourself a better-looking man than I am--the temerity of--"
"And you spell it t-e-m-e-r-i-t-y?" interrupted Adair.
"Yes, why?"
"Oh, I used it in a letter I was writing to a girl, and I didn't want to mail it till I was sure." He showed the envelope in his hand, with his thumb hiding the name.
"Always at it," said Hellman, with an unpleasant laugh. "Who are you throwing the handkerchief at now?"
"The prettiest girl in Carthage," returned Adair genially. "There's a box over there--let's drop it in."
And together they crossed the street, and sent the letter on its way.
It was to Phyllis, begging in warm but respectful language for the privilege of calling on her.
CHAPTER X