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Rh ut He proceeded to bluff himself out of the di:mma. “She? OH, yes, she. Well, she is she. Altoether divine, Len.” He was trying hard to be asual and flippant, but his eyes were dancing and is lips trembled with smiles. Gates grinned at him. “A poor bluff, old man —a darn poor bluff. You ’re in love, pauvre enant, and I’m afraid that you ’re in a very bad ray. Come on, tell us the lady’s name, her pediree, and list of charms.”

Hugh grinned back at Gates. “Chase yourself,” e said gaily. “I won’t tell you a blamed thing bout her.” “You’d better,” said Jim Saunders from the epths of a leather chair. “Is she the jane whose icture adorns your desk?” “Yeah,” Hugh admitted.

“How do you like er?”

“Very fair, very fair.” Saunders was magnif:ently lofty. “I’ve seen better, of course, but ’ve seen worse, too. Not bad um, not very ad.” f ,.

The “razzing” had started, and Hugh lost his .
 * erve.

“Jim, you can go to hell,” he said definitely, pre•ared to rush up-stairs before Saunders could re¬ ly. “You don’t know a queen when you see one. Vhy, Cynthia—”