“Well, how did you like ’em?” demanded Dunk.
“Do you mean both—or one?” asked Andy.
“Huh, you ought to know what I mean?”
“Or—who, I suppose,” and Andy smiled.
He and his chum had come back to their room after taking home the girls with whom they had spent the evening at the theatre. There had followed a little supper, and the affair ended most enjoyably. That is, it seemed to, but there was an undernote of irritation in Dunk’s voice and he regarded Andy with rather a strange look as they sat in the room preparatory to going to bed.
“What did you and she find to talk about so much?” asked Dunk, suspiciously. “I brought Kittie Martin around for you.”
“So I imagined.”
“Yet nearly all the time you kept talking to Alice Jordan. Didn’t you like Miss Martin?”
“Sure. She’s a fine girl. But Miss Jordan and I found we knew the same people back home, where I come from, and naturally she wanted to hear about them.”
“Huh! Well, the next time I get you a girl I’ll make sure the one I bring along doesn’t come from the same part of the country you do.”