"Do you?" returned Digby, with a distinct accent of regret, as if I had told him I thought she squinted. "I never noticed it. But her looks, I mean?"
"She is very peculiar," I said, merely.
"But you like everything extraordinary. I should have thought her very peculiarity was just what would have attracted you."
"So it does," I admitted; "so much so, that I am going to take the trouble of calling this afternoon expressly to see her again."
Digby stared hard at me for a minute, and then burst out laughing. "By Jove! You've made good use of your time. Did she ask you?"
"She did," I said.
"This looks as if it would be a case," remarked Digby lightly, and then added, "I'd have given anything to have had her myself. But if it's not to be for me, I'd rather you should be the lucky man than any one else."
"Don't you think all that is a little 'previous'?" I asked satirically, looking at him over the coffee, which stood on the map of Mesopotamia.
"Well, I don't know. You must marry some time, Cecil."
"Really!" I said, raising my eyebrows and regarding him with increased amusement. "I think I have heard of men remaining celibates before now, especially men with my tastes."
"Yes," said Digby, becoming suddenly as serious and thoughtful as if he were being called upon to consider some weighty problem, and of which the solution must be found in the next ten minutes. "I don't know how you would agree. She is an awfully religious girl."
"Indeed?" I said with a laugh. "How do you know?"
Digby thought hard.
