ABOUT THE LOVE GAME
I'd ever seen her. Bitter and sweet. Gentle and savage. Now she was glowing. A little while ago she was a thunder-storm. I don't know why men like that kind of women. Jon had no learning about them. But he fell the same as they who had. Like brother Henry—me, if I'd had the chance.
Apple-jack always makes me sleepy. So the hireland and me laid down behind the shellbark tree to take a nap. Jon he laid down on the grass at Evelyn's feet and read poetry to her out of a German book he had in his pocket.
It was about an old man in Germany who sold his soul to the Old Boy so's he could be made young and love a girl he knew. They talked a good deal about it—Evelyn contending there were no such men nowadays, old Goliath, as we sometimes called Jonthy, telling her that the world was just full of 'em. I expect Jonthy was trifling with the truth a little about that. Anyhow, I never heard about any of 'em being willing to give up their souls for a little while with a woman. Most of 'em won't
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