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 line. Here’s a little trick I picked out for you on my way over.”

He flicked a two-carat diamond solitaire ring across the table. Miss Asher flipped it back to him with her fork.

“Don’t get fresh,” she said, severely.

“I’m worth a hundred thousand dollars,” said Platt. “I’ll build you the finest house in West Texas.”

“You can’t buy me, Mr. Buyer,” said Miss Asher, “if you had a hundred million. I didn’t think I’d have to call you down. You didn’t look like the others to me at first, but I see you’re all alike.”

“All who?” asked Platt.

“All you buyers. You think because we girls have to go out to dinner with you or lose our jobs that you’re privileged to say what you please. Well, forget it. I thought you were different from the others, but I see I was mistaken.”

Platt struck his fingers on the table with a gesture of sudden, illuminating satisfaction.

“I’ve got it!” he exclaimed, almost hilariously—“‘the Nicholson place, over on the north side. There’s a big grove of live oaks and a natural lake. The old house can be pulled down and the new one set further back.”

“Put out your pipe,” said Miss Asher. “I’m sorry to wake you up, but you fellows might as well