of the highbrow type.

For a second Mr. Robert stares at the portrait foolish, and then he
glances up quick to see if I'm watchin'. As it happens, I am, and blamed
if he don't tint up over it!

"Excuse," says I. "Only leather case I could find. Besides, I didn't
know you had any such souvenirs as this on your desk."

He chuckles throaty. "Nor I," says he. "That is, I'd almost forgotten.
You see----"

"I see," says I. "She's one of the discards, eh?"

Sort of jolts him, that does. "Eh?" says he. "A discard? No, no!
I--er--I suppose, if I must confess, Torchy, that I am one of hers."

"Gwan!" says I. "You? Look like a discard, don't you? Tush, tush!"

The idea of him tryin' to feed that to me! Why, say, I expect there
ain't half a dozen bachelors in town that's rated any higher on the
eligible list than Mr. Bob Ellins. It's no dark secret, either. I've
heard of whole summer campaigns bein' planned just to land Mr. Robert,
of house parties made up special to give some fair young queen a chance
at him, and of one enterprisin' young widow that chased him up for two
seasons before she quit.

How he's been able to dodge the net so long has puzzled more than me,
and up to date I'd never had a hint that there was such a thing for him
as a certain party. So I expect I was gawpin' some curious at the
picture.

"Huh!" says I, but more or less to myself.

"Not intending any adverse criticism of the young lady, I trust?"
remarks Mr. Robert.

"Far be it from me!" says I. "Only--well, maybe the paintin' don't do
her justice."

"Rather discreetly phrased, that," says he, chucklin' quiet. "Thank you,
Torchy. And you are quite right. No mere painter ever could do her full
justice. While the likeness is excellent, the flesh tones much as I
remember them, yet I fancy a great deal has escaped the brush,--the
queer, quirky little smile, for instance, that used to come at times in
the mouth corners, a quick tilting of the chin as she talked, and that
trick of widening the eyes as she looked at you. China blue, I think her
eyes would be called; rather unusual eyes, in fact."

He seems to be enjoyin' the monologue; so I don't break in, but just
stands there while he gazes at the picture and holds forth enthusiastic.
Even after he's finished he still sits there starin'.

"Gee!" says I. "It ain't a hopeless case, is it, Mr. Robert?"

Which brings him out of his spell. He shrugs his shoulders, indulges in
an unconvincin' little