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“Forgive my coming in,” she said to Ennison. ’ The listening soldiers began to snigger behind their hands. "Miss Enschede, you're seven kinds of a brick!" "A brick?" He chuckled. She counted three on the way to the train and four more on the crowded car that would have gladly taken him to bed with not so much as a word. “Very well,” she would say, “then I must go. " "And what—what was your answer?" demanded the widow, eagerly. Do I, Bess, eh?" "Nobody whatever, love," replied Edgeworth Bess; "nobody but me, dear.
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