“It does indeed,” said the Major. “Fine subject for Miss Mapp.”
Puffin shuffled alongside.
“There’s still a lot of talk going on in the town,” he said, “about that duel of ours. Those fairies of yours are all agog to know what it was about. I am sure they all think that there was a lady in the case. Just like the vanity of the sex. If two men have a quarrel, they think it must be because of their silly faces.”
Ordinarily the Major’s gallantry would have resented this view, but the reconciliation with Puffin was too recent to risk just at present.
“Poor little devils,” he said. “It makes an excitement for them. I wonder who they think it is. It would puzzle me to name a woman in Tilling worth catching an early train for.”
“There are several who’d be surprised to hear you say that, Major,” said Puffin archly.
“Well, well,” said the other, strutting and swelling, and walking without a sign of lameness....
They had come to where their houses stood opposite each other on the steep cobbled street, fronted at its top end by Miss Mapp’s garden-room. She happened to be standing in the window, and the Major made a great flourish of his cap, and laid his hand on his heart.
“And there’s one of them,” said Puffin, as Miss Mapp acknowledged these florid salutations with a wave of her hand, and tripped away from the window.
“Poking your fun at me,” said the Major. “Perhaps she was the cause of our quarrel, hey? Well, I’ll step across, shall I, about half-past nine, and bring my diaries with me?”
“I’ll expect you. You’ll find me at my Roman roads.”
