But what she said was:
"Less dramatic things for you, now, Milt. Trigonometry is going to be your idea of fun; blueprints and engineering books."
"Yes. I know. I'm going to do it. Do four years' work in three—or two. I'll tack pages of formulas on the wall, in my bum hallroom, and study 'em while I'm shaving. Oh, I'll be the grind! But learn to dance the fox-trot, though! If America gets into the war, I'll get into the engineering corps, and come back to school afterward."
"Will the finances——"
"I'll sell my garage, by mail. Rauskukle will take it. He won't rob me of more than a thousand dollars on price—not much more."
"You're going to love Seattle. And we'll have some good tramps while I'm there, you and I."
"Honestly? Will you want to?"
"Do you suppose for one second I'd give up my feeling of free air? If you don't come and get me, I'll call on you and make you come!"
"Warn you I'll probably be living over some beanery."
"Probably. With dirty steps leading up to it. I'll sweep the steps. I'll cook supper for you. I can do things, can't I! I did manage Dlorus, didn't I!"