He had big brown eyes, bedroom eyes, a bedroom with a Hollywood sized bed in it. It was with surprise that I noted he did not have a mustache. He definitely gave the initial impression of having a well-waxed, Adolphe Menjou type mustache.

[A bit later.]

His teeth under his ghost mustache were gleaming at me.

***

"My name is Hooray Rose."

I repeated her first name questioningly.

"Yes," she said. "Like in hip-hip-hooray....That isn't my real name. Some press agent gave it to me....He wanted to call me Hooray F. Rose. You know, 'F' for 'For.' But I thought that sounded conceited."

***

I could hear the rustling of my professors at Connecticut and Columbia as they turned over in their seats of learning.

***

An unhappy, rather ill-kempt lady stenographer frowned at us. I guess the twine business wasn't booming, and Steve and I probably didn't look as if we used much twine.

***

I shrugged; it wasn't a very good shrug, but then they don't make shrugs like they used to.

***