Eight hours is a workin' day anywhere."
"My dear fellow, the union hours for courting don't begin until 9
P.M. I've got myself into a fine mess, haven't I? Just when Night
spreads her sable mantle and Dan Cupid strings up his bow, I must
forsake my lady-love and crawl into the hay. Oh, you're a good
trainer!"
"You'd better can some of this love-talk and think more about
foot-racin'."
"It can't be done! Nine o'clock! The middle of the afternoon.
It's rather funny, though, isn't it?" Speed was not the sort to
cherish even a real grievance for any considerable time. "If it
had happened to anybody else I'd laugh myself sick."
Glass chuckled. "The whole thing is a hit. Look at this joint,
for instance." He took in their surroundings with a comprehensive
gesture. "It looks about as much like a gymnasium as I look like
a contortionist. Why don't you get a Morris chair and a
mandolin?"
"There are two reasons," said Speed, facetiously. "First, it
takes an athlete to get out of a Morris chair; and, second, a
mandolin has proved to be many a young man's ruin.
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