That keen young face at his side, so self-contained and strong, absorbed him. Once the girl looked up swiftly, and he was aware of her gray eyes, that flashed in his and were instantly withdrawn, to follow the bob of the heads of the jockeys lifting over a fence on the far side of the course. "Lul-like my glasses?" he asked, with a slight stutter. "No," she said. "I can see."
A paroxysm of coughing shook him; he spoke through it sobbingly: "'Drag! 'S jus' lul-like a girl! Ha-why I walk OOF! faster'n that every day on my way to school." He managed to subjugate a tendency to nausea. "What you want to go home for?" he said. "Le's go on!" In the darkness Mr. Claude Blakely's expression could not be seen, nor was his voice heard.