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"Why, you ninny," retorted Dave scornfully, "the football 'soreheads' have been developing that classy feeling. They wear better clothes than we do, and have more pocket money. Many of their fathers don't work for a living. In other words, the fellows on Dick's list belong to what they consider a privileged and aristocratic set.

"I like it better than the land of the Amorites and the Hittites," she responded so promptly that the other gaped. "Upon my word, you're a classy young 'un," she grinned. "Come again soon and give us some more." Patricia as she carried Judith off to the dressing room for her wraps, was moved to inquiry. "How in the world could you answer her so pat?" she asked, twinkling at Judith's superior air.

And besides they ain't very classy to my notion. Of course, if a woman ain't got looks or sense or any tone to her, if she's satisfied to live in a bum tenement and marry some dub that can't make nothing, why, that's different. But you look like a woman that had been used to something and wanted to get somewhere. I wouldn't have let my daughter go into no such low, foolish life."

"Well, it gets my goat the way women figure out that a man doesn't do a darn thing but sit on his chair and have lovey-dovey conferences with a lot of classy dames and give 'em the glad eye!" "I guess you manage to give them a glad enough eye when they do come in." "What do you mean? Mean I'm chasing flappers?" "I should hope not at your age!" "Now you look here!

"Aren't his red eyes beautiful and hasn't he a classy set of teeth?" rejoined Mark Heath. "Be good, Fido, and you shall have a plumber for breakfast." "But he'll spare me! He says I'm too beautiful to eat!" Eleanor was dancing back. "Oh Kate, I've seen an ogre!" Kate did not answer. She fell in with Mark Heath, and as they drew ahead she murmured: "I wonder what's got into her?" "Nothing I guess.

He's pointin' to a display of checked gingham frocks, blue and white and pink and white, with hats to match. "Yes," says I, "do look sort of familiar, don't they?" "Why," he goes on, "they're almost exactly like those of of Lucy's; the same simple lines, the same material and everything." "Classy stuff," says I. "Come along, though. The picture place is next door, upstairs."

Marcus, in spite of himself, was managed into a sale. It was of an enormous canvas, covered weakly enough by a thin reproduction of a range of the Rockies and a sagebrush flat. Mr. Hudson in his hollow voice pronounced it "classy." "Say," he said, "put a little life into the foreground and that would please me.

One of them was a quality of brutal indifference in some of his classmates to those less fortunate. These classy young gentlemen could ignore him as easily as a hurrying business man can a newsboy trying to sell him a paper. If he was forced upon their notice they were perfectly courteous; otherwise he was not on the map for them.

Inglesby," said the Butterfly Man to me one night, casually, "has got him a new private secretary. He came this afternoon. His name's Hunter J. Howard Hunter. He dresses as if he wrote checks for a living and he looks exactly like he dresses. Honest, he's the original he-god they use to advertise suspenders and collars and neverrips and that sort of thing in the classy magazines.

He peruses the slangily worded ads of the "classy clothes" tailors, and when scarlet cravats are worn the small-town boy is not more than two weeks late in acquiring one that glows like a headlight. Louie found a rooming-house, shoved his suitcase under the bed, changed his collar, washed his hands in the gritty water of the wash bowl, and started out to look for a job. Louie was twenty-one.