"And why did you get out?" he asked.
It was a silly question and deserved a silly answer. Besides, I was sick of it all by this time.
"Point's moustache put me off," I said.
"What was wrong with Point's moustache?"
"It swerved the wrong way."
"I was fielding point," he said.
"I'm very sorry. But if you had recognised me, you wouldn't have asked why I got out, and if I had recognised you I shouldn't have told you. So let's forgive and forget."
I hoped that the subject was really closed this time. Of course, I knew that kind friends and relations would ask me on the morrow how many I had made, but for that day I wanted no more of it. Yet, as it happened, I reopened the subject myself.
For with five minutes to play their ninth wicket fell. Mid-off sauntered over towards me.
"Just as well we didn't stay in any longer."