Well, Bill, that's a good deal stronger than the way they been laughing at me, but they done enough to make me think a bit.

They been looking at three things--these here spats, the red rim of my handkerchief sticking out of my pocket, and that soft gray hat, when I got it on." "Derned if I see anything wrong with your outfit.

Didn't they tell you that that was the style back East, to have spats like that on ?" "Sure," said Ronicky, "but maybe they didn't know, or maybe they go with some, but not with me.

Maybe I'm kind of too brown and outdoors looking to fit with spats and handkerchiefs like this." "Ronicky," said Bill Gregg in admiration, "maybe you ain't read a pile, but you figure things out just like a book." Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of a drift of houses, and then more and more.

From the elevated line on which they ran presently they could look down on block after block of roofs packed close together, or big business structures, as they reached the uptown business sections, and finally Ronicky gasped, as they plunged into utter darkness that roared past the window.
"We go underground to the station," Bill Gregg explained.