He drew her closer. Who knows?—on the analogy of “Squiggles” she might come to call him “Mangles!” “I don’t think I can ever marry any one,” she said, and fell suddenly into another set of considerations that perplexed her for a time. "Now stand before me, Poll. She trailed him to his apartment and a black door that read 727 in solemn gold-tone lettering. ’ No Latin? And no guns or daggers, naturally. To begin with, he struck her as being the most variable person she had ever encountered. My friends consider it wonderfully faithful. Don't ask any more questions.
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