“What is this?” he asked.
“A cocktail, of course.”
“I thought it was some kind of tea you ordered. This is liquor. You can’t drink this. What is your first name?”
“To my intimate friends,” said Miss Asher, freezingly, “it is ‘Helen.’”
“Listen, Helen,” said Platt, leaning over the table. “For many years every time the spring flowers blossomed out on the prairies I got to thinking of somebody that I’d never seen or heard of. I knew it was you the minute I saw you yesterday. I’m going back home to-morrow, and you’re going with me. I know it, for I saw it in your eyes when you first looked at me. You needn’t kick, for you’ve got to fall into line. Here’s a little trick I picked out for you on my way over.”
He flicked a two-carat diamond solitaire ring across the table. Miss Asher flipped it back to him with her fork.
“Don’t get fresh,” she said, severely.
“I’m worth a hundred thousand dollars,” said Platt. “I’ll build you the finest house in West Texas.”
“You can’t buy me, Mr. Buyer,” said Miss Asher, “if you had a hundred million. I didn’t think I’d have to call you down. You didn’t look like the others to me at first, but I see you’re all alike.”
“All who?” asked Platt.