Now that's a funny crack, ain't it? What will she do with me? I'm trying to figure that one out, when she lays her beautiful hand on mine, which is only beautiful in a four-ounce glove.
"That's a splendid offer, Gale," she says, "and I'd be tempted to snap it up, only I know why you've made it to me. You don't need a secretary yet, though I know the day will come when you'll have half a dozen secretaries in your own big office. I often visualize you sitting at your desk, directing the destiny of some tremendous business, Gale—don't you yourself?"
"I don't know, Judy," I says. "I'd rather direct your dest—eh"
I'm getting in over my head, so I kind of trailed off!
"Yes, Gale?" says Judy, all attention.
But I'm afraid to gamble with her! I'll tell you why. If I ever lost Judy's friendship, I'd of cooked myself, as sure as you can get good and moist by falling into the ocean. I once read in a book about a couple like me and Judy which was the best of pals till the fellow hauls off one day and asks the girl to wed him. This spilled the beans, because the girl looks sad and shakes her head, saying, to the best of my knowledge: "Oh, Jack, how could you! Our lovely friendship is now broke up—we can never be the same again since you went to work and asked me that! Why couldn't we of remained just chums?" And the guy gets the air. So I held my tongue and played safe, turning the conversation to Rags.
"It looks to me, Judy," I says, "as if you're kidding me about what you really think of Rags Dempster.
