'You fail to allow,' said I impressively, 'for the rejuvenescence which recent events have produced in me. If I came with you this evening I should be quite capable' I paused.
'Of anything dreadful?' asked Dolly.
'Of paying you pronounced attentions,' said I gravely.
'That,' said Dolly with equal gravity, 'would be very regrettable. It would be unjust to me—and very insulting to her, Mr. Carter.'
'It would be the finest testimonial to her,' I cried.
'And you'll spend the evening thinking of her?' asked Dolly.
'I shall get through the evening,' said I, 'in the best way I can.' And I smiled contentedly.
'What's her husband?' asked Dolly suddenly.
'Her husband,' I rejoined, 'is nothing at all.'
Dolly, receiving this answer, looked at me with a pathetic air.
'It's not quite fair,' she observed. 'Do you know what I'm thinking about, Mr. Carter?'
'Certainly I do, Lady Mickleham. You are thinking that you would like to meet me for the first time.'
'Not at all. I was thinking that it would be amusing if you met me for the first time.'
I said nothing. Dolly rose and walked to the window. She swung the tassel of the blind and it bumped against the window. The failing sun caught her ruddy brown hair. There were curls on her forehead, too.
