My brain, that precision instrument, slipped into highgear."Anything?" I asked, looking at him narrowly."Anything," he affirm in ringing tones.I stroked my chin thoughtfully. It so happened that I knewwhere to get my hands on a coat. My father had had on onein his undergraduate days; it lay now in a trunk in theattic back home. It also happened that Petey had somethingI wanted. He didn't have it exactly, but at least he hadfirst rights on it. I refer to his girl, Polly Espy....I was a freshman in law school. In a few years I would beout in practice. I was well aware of the importance of theright kind of wife in furthering a lawyer's career. Thesuccessful lawyers I had observed were, almost withoutexception, married to beautiful, gracious, intelligentwomen. With one omission, Polly fitted these specificationsperfectly. Beautiful she was...Gracious she was Intelligentshe was not. In fact, she veered in the opposite direction.But I believed that under my guidance she would smarten up.At any rate, it was worth a try. It is, after all, easierto make a beautiful dumb girl smart than to make an uglygirl beautiful."Petey," I said, "are you in love with Polly Espy?""I think she's a keen kid," he replied, "but I don't knowif you'd call it love. Why?""Do you," I asked, "have any kind of formal arrangementwith her? I mean are you going steady or anything likethat?""No. We see each other quite a bit, but we both have otherdates. Why?""Is there," I asked, "any other man for whom she has aparticular fondness?""Not that I know of. Why?"I nodded with satisfaction. "In other words, if you