I told her I was sick today and she told me to get over myself. And yet—he thought of the supper party where he had met Annabel Pellissier, the stories about her, his own few minutes’ whispered lovemaking! He was a self-contained young man, but his cheeks grew hot at the thought of the things which it had seemed quite natural to say to her then, but which he knew very well would have been instantly resented by the girl whom he had just left. There’s something—puppyish in a man’s usual attitude to women. She was a lovely girl, attired in deep mourning, and having an expression of profound sorrow on her charming features. Do you like duck?” “Sure.
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