“Narrow calibre, perhaps; but powerful. You can shoot a bigger gun and bigger projectile, Barry. I don’t know what your limits may be, but I know they’re wide—if you care to range them.”
“That’s nice of you, Mike.... I guess I’ll feel like working ... pretty soon.... As for falling in love, ... I suppose I’ll know it if I do.... Don’t you think so?”
Coltfoot took his hat and stick:
“I’m not sure. I don’t believe the thing conforms always to specific gravity or Troy weight or carats or decimals. I don’t believe that a standard test will always give the same reaction.” He scowled: “I don’t believe there’s such a thing as love in elemental supply. I think it’s always found in combination—endless combinations.... And how the hell you’re to recognise it, candidly, I don’t know.”
“Stay to dinner; will you, Mike?”
“Sorry.... By the way, how is your little waif, the Goddess of Discord, getting on with Smull?”
“All right, I fancy.”
“Don’t you see her?”
“I haven’t lately.”
“Well, the gossip is that she’s sure fire. Frank Donnell believes in her. I’ve heard that Smull is crazy about her and stands to back her to the limit.... I’m sorry—rather.”