"Have you thought about Christmas presents yet?" she asked.
I nearly swooned. With difficulty I remained in an upright position. She was the first person who had not begun by asking me if I danced the tango!
"Excuse me," I said. "I'm afraid I didn't—would you tell me your name again?"
I felt that it ought to be celebrated in some way. I had some notion of writing a sonnet to her.
"Hopkins," she said; "I knew you'd forgotten me."
"Of course I haven't," I said, suddenly remembering her. The sonnet would never be written now. "We had a dance together before."
"Yes," she said. "Let me see," she added, "I did ask you if you danced the tango, didn't I?"