Her eyes dropped before his searching gaze. "I’ll bet he’s got dyspeps...

Her eyes dropped before his searching gaze. "I’ll bet he’s got dyspepsia right now!" Martin challenged. "Yes, he has," she confessed; "but-" "An’ I bet," Martin dashed on, "that he’s solemn an’ serious as an old owl, an’ doesn’t care a rap for a good time, for all his thirty thousand a year. An’ I’ll bet he’s not particularly joyful at seein’ others have a good time. Ain’t I right?" She nodded her head in agreement, and hastened to explain:-

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