"
"And I'm not sure that I did have," grunted Dalzell.
Dave shot another swift look into his chum's face before he said:
"Danny boy, your case is a light one. You'll recover speedily.
Your vanity has been somewhat stung, but your heart won't have
a scar in three days from now."
"What makes you think you know so much about that?" insisted Dan,
drawing himself up with a dignified air.
"It isn't hard to judge, when it's another fellow's case," smiled
Darrin. "I believe that, at this minute, I understand your feelings
better than you do yourself."
"I don't know about my feelings," proclaimed Dan gloomily still,
"but I do know something about my experience and conclusions.
No more girls for me!"
"Good idea, Danny boy," cried Darrin, slapping his friend on the
back. "That's the best plan for you, too."
"Why?"
"Because you haven't head enough to understand girls and their ways."
"I don't want to."
"Good! I hope you will keep in that frame of mind. And now,
let's talk of something serious."
"Of what, then?" inquired Dalzell, as the two started to walk
along together.
"Football."
"Is that more serious than girls?" demanded Dan Dalzell, suspicious
that his friend was making fun of him.
"It's safer, at any rate, for you. Why, if a girl happens to
say, 'Delighted to meet you, Mr. Dalzell,' you expect her to give
up all other thoughts but you, and to be at home every Saturday
evening.
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