How silly could you get? Suddenly he understood the way of a man with a maid; love was older than conversation, and they both saw and understood through and beyond any silly words. In fact, the sillier the words, the better! "That's what you think! You're going with me, or you're going to jail. They'll put you in a dark cell with the rats. They have their own specially-bred rats, you know." He leered, slyly. "You wouldn't dare!" He shrugged, elaborately, and turned to the phone. She darted past him to the door and he caught her, pulled her back out of the hall. She was surprisingly strong and determined, and she ducked when he kissed her. "That one was a mess, wasn't it?" he complained. She relaxed and began to laugh, and he joined her. She looked into his eyes a long moment, and pulled his head down, kissed him tenderly. "You don't give a girl much choice--one big rat or a lot of little ones." "I'll give you no choice at all. I'll teach you to play tricks on me! Hurry up and change." "One of the girls keeps a semi-formal in her locker. I can borrow it and we could go dancing." "I don't dance. Never learned. Couldn't we just talk?" "We could, but we won't; you'll never learn any younger. You seem light enough on your feet. Come on, it'll be fun!" "Tonight I can do anything! You take too long to change, and I'll tear the building down brick by brick with my bare hands, hear me?" "No, please don't! I'll hurry, I promise!" He waited impatiently at the door of the locker room. Now that he knew how to talk to a girl, he wanted to talk, and talk, and talk some more. He planned extravagant things to say when she came out, but when she appeared, smiling, he was struck dumb. She took his arm and they half ran, half skipped out of the building to his car. THE END * * * * * End of Project Gutenberg's The Romantic Analogue, by W.W. Skupeldyckle