on the firing line

On The Firing Lineby Anna Chapin Ray and Hamilton Brock FullerCHAPTER ONESix feet one in his stockings, broad-shouldered and without an ounce of extra flesh, Harvard Weldon suddenly halted before one of a line of deck chairs."I usually get what I want, Miss Dent," he observed suggestively."You are more fortunate than most people." Her answering tone was dry.Most men would have been baffled by her apparent indifference. Not so was Weldon. Secure in the possession of a good tailor and an equally good digestion, he was willing to await the leisurely course of events."My doctor always advises mild exercise after lunch," he continued."You are in the care of a physician?" she queried, with a whim

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