'In love, you mean, George? No, I never was.'
'Never?'
'No. Are you?'
'Yes. Hang it!' Then he looked at me with a puzzled air and continued,—
'I say, though, Sam, it's awfully funny you shouldn't have—don't you know what it's like, then?'
'How should I?' I inquired apologetically. 'What is it like, George?'
George took my arm.
'It's just Hades,' he informed me confidentially.
'Then,' I remarked, 'I have no reason to regret'
'Still, you know,' interrupted George, 'it's not half-bad.'
'That appears to me to be a paradox,' I observed.
'It's precious hard to explain it to you if you've never felt it,' said George, in rather an injured tone. 'But what I say is quite true.'
'I shouldn't think of contradicting you, my dear fellow,' I hastened to say.
'Let's sit down,' said he, 'and watch the people driving. We may see somebody—somebody we know, you know, Sam.'
'So we may,' said I, and we sat down.
'A fellow,' pursued George, with knitted brows, 'is all turned upside-down, don't you know?'
'How very peculiar!' I exclaimed.
