But I can't stand for much of it--his stuff--really, Billy." "'Stuff' indeed! And why not ?" An odd hostility showed in Billy's eyes.
Again Calderwell shrugged his shoulders.
"Don't ask me.

I don't know.

But they're always dead slow, somber things, with the wail of a lost spirit shrieking through them." "But I just love lost spirits that wail," avowed Billy, with more than a shade of reproach in her voice.
Calderwell stared; then he shook his head.
"Not in mine, thank you;" he retorted whimsically.

"I prefer my spirits of a more sane and cheerful sort." The girl laughed, but almost instantly she fell silent.
"I've been wondering," she began musingly, after a time, "why some one of those three men does not--marry." "You wouldn't wonder--if you knew them better," declared Calderwell.
"Now think.

Let's begin at the top of the Strata--by the way, Bertram's name for that establishment is mighty clever! First, Cyril: according to Bertram Cyril hates 'all kinds of women and other confusion'; and I fancy Bertram hits it about right.