"Do you suppose I'll tell you, you scheming wife-hunter! If I do,
you'll get an introduction somehow, and then you'll win her, for I'm
afraid she has good sense."

And Harlson laughed and looked down in the brotherly way he had.

"But this is nonsense. Why don't you tell me something about her? Is
she fat and fifty and rich, or bread-and-buttery and white-skinned and
promising, or twenty and just generally fair to look upon, or
twenty-five and piquant and knowing, or some big, red-haired lioness,
or some yellow-haired, blue-eyed innocent, with good digestion and
premature maternal ways, or----"

"Rot! She's a woman, I tell you!"

"All right. Answer questions now categorically."

"Go ahead."

"How old is she?"

"Twenty-seven or eight."

"Married?"

"No."

"Ever been married?"