"And to be taken with a grain of salt," retorted the girl, puckering her piquant, impish features. She edged closer to him, locking her arm through his where it rested on the steering wheel.
"Nick," she said, her tones suddenly gentle, "I think I'm pretty crazy about you. Heaven knows why I should be, but it's a fact."
"Pat, dear!"
"I'm crazy about you in this meek, sensitive pose of yours, and I'm fascinated by those masterful moments you flash occasionally. Really, Nick, I almost wish you flamed out oftener."
"Don't!" he said sharply.
"Why not?"
"Let's not talk about me, Pat. It—embarrasses me."
"All right, Mr. Modesty! Let's talk about me, then. I'll promise we won't succeed in embarrassing me."
"And it's quite the most interesting subject in the world, Pat."
"Well, then?"