“Truly your understanding is great, my angel,” he murmured.
“But how did you get it?” she persisted.
“He gave it to me at lunch today,” said her husband. “And in the near future it’s going to prove very useful—very useful indeed. Why, I almost believe that if I advertised that I’d got it, it would draw old Peterson himself. Seconds out of the ring; third and last ’round: time.”
“Hugh—you’re incorrigible. And don’t do that in the hall—someone will see.”
So he kissed her again, and went slowly up the stairs to his own room. Most of the really brilliant ideas in life come in flashes, and he had had many worse than that last. There were times when his soul positively hankered for another little turn-up with Carl Peterson—something with a real bit of zip in it, something to vary his present
