"Hey?"
"Willett and Carrick and the others!" shouted Sayre, gesticulating. "They've caught 'em all! She said so! I——"
"They? She? Who's caught what? Who's 'they'? What it is? Who's 'she'? What are you talking about, anyway?"
"Amourette told me——"
"Amourette? Who the deuce is Amourette?"
"I don't know. Shut up! My head's spinning like a gyroscope. All I know is that I want to marry her and she won't let me—and I believe she would if I had a reliable hair-restorer and wasn't near-sighted—but she ran away and got inside the fence and locked the gate."
"Are you drunk?" demanded Langdon, "or merely frolicsome?"
"I don't know. I guess I am. I'm about everything else. What do I know about anything anyway? Nothing!"
He began to run around in circles; Langdon, having seen similar symptoms in demented cats, regarded him with growing alarm.
"I tell you it's an outrageous social condition which tolerates such doings!" shouted Sayre. "It's a perfectly monstrous state of things! Nine handsome men out of ten are fatheads! I told her so! I tried to point out to her—but she wouldn't listen—she wouldn't listen!"