"I'm as dippy about Johnny as his own mother!" she added.
"And in just the same way," returned Loring, secretly glad to recognize that fact.

"When you can spare a little time for it, Polly, you might become dippy about me." "I am," she acknowledged, putting her hand upon his arm affectionately.
"But you don't want to marry me," protested Loring, a trace of pain contracting his brows.

"I need you, Polly!" "Please don't, Ashley," she begged.

"It's a for-sure fact that I'm never going to forget poor Billy.

Don't let that stop us being pals, though, please!" "Certainly not," agreed Loring, with as much cheerfulness as she could have wished, and burying deeply for the last time the hope that he had cherished.
"Look here, Loring," charged Val Russel, striding over with Mrs.
Follison; "you'll kindly come into this game or give us back our Polly." "You'll have to do without your Polly for a minute, children," insisted that young woman.