I'll draw it
for you when I get home . . . and we'll be married at the same
time as Harry and Nelly."
"And one of those French brass gasoline tanks that set flat
against the dash-board and hold a two-gallon extra supply."
"You shall have it!"
"But she said she had actually, seen the letter!"
"It was all a lie, every word of it," he broke out. "We'll go
straight to her now if you like and have it out, and then you'll
see whom to believe! There never was any letter or anything,
except that she made up her mind I was to have her niece whether
I wanted to or not. I told you that fifty million times in the
letters you wouldn't read and sent back unopened. And it wasn't
the kind of message I could give anybody else to take to you. I
had to think of the girl, of course, and I know she liked me."
"French tires, of course?"
"Every blessed thing just the way you want it. The only thing I
can't see my way to change is the chauffeur, a poor devil named
Truslow, who's really an awful decent kind of fellow when you get
to know him!"
"Oh, dear," I said, "I never dreamed the Great Bubble Syndicate
was going to end like this!"
"End?" cried Morty, putting his arm around my waist as though he
now had a right to.
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