"At least they're not rude!" And she meant that he was rude.
"They're absolutely trivial. They shut off----"
"They shut off rain and snow and dirt, and I still fail to see the
picturesqueness of dirt! Good-by!"
She had driven off, without looking back. She was heading for Seattle
and the Pacific Ocean at forty miles an hour--and they had no engagement
to meet either in Seattle or in the Pacific.
Before Milt went on he completed a task on which he had decided the
night before while he had meditated on the tailored impertinence of Jeff
Saxton's gray suit. The task was to give away the Best Suit, that
stolid, very black covering which at Schoenstrom had seemed suitable
either to a dance or to the Y. P. S. C. E. The recipient was Mr. Pinky
Parrott, who gave in return a history of charity and high souls.
Milt did not listen. He was wondering, now that they had started, where
they had started for. Certainly not for Seattle! Why not stop and see
Pinky's gold-mine? Maybe he did have one. Even Pinky had to tell the
truth sometimes. With a good popular gold-mine in his possession, Milt
could buy quantities of clothes like Jeff Saxton's, and---"And," he reflected, "I can learn as good manners as his in one hour,
with a dancing lesson thrown in. If I didn't, I'd sue the professor!"