She poked investigatingly among the chocolates, and finally
selected a delectable morsel with epicurean care.
"You haven't told me about the polysyllabic young man," she
reminded. "He has held my heart in b*****e since he said to Pete
Hamilton yesterday in the store—ah—" She leaned and barely reached
a slip of paper which was lying upon a row of books. "I wrote it
down so I wouldn't forget it," she explained parenthetically. "He
said to Pete, in the store, just after Pete had tried to say
something funny with the usual lamentable failure—um—'You are
mentally incapable of recognizing the line of demarcation between
legitimate persiflage and objectionable familiarity.' Now, I want
to know what sort of a man, under fifty and not a college
professor, would—or could—say that without
