Mr.Poynter's face was radiant.
"And after running the chance of a night in the pine barrens," he mused admiringly, "you amble out of the danger zone in the most matter-of-fact manner with your saddle clanking like a bone-yard.

I don't wonder your aunt fusses.

What made the racket ?" "Bones and shells and things." "Well, for such absolute irresponsibility as you've developed since you've been out of the chastening jurisdiction of the hay-camp, I'd respectfully suggest that you marry the very first bare-headed motorist, smoking a cigarette, whom you happened to see as you rode out of the pine-woods." "Philip," said Diane disdainfully, "the moon--" "Is on my head again," admitted Philip.

"I know.

It always gets me.
We'd better motor around a bit and clear my brain out.