"I said, 'WOULD you mind playing that one again, PLEASE?' And then—"
"And then you looked as if you were just going to cry, and at the last moment you smiled and said, 'Hooray.' And he said, 'Certainly, madam.' Isn't that right?"
"I believe you're cleverer than some of us think," said Miss
Middleton, a trifle anxiously.
"I sometimes think so too. However, to get back to what we were saying—I came here to recover my usual calm, and I shan't be at all calm if I'm only going to get this one dance from you. As an old friend of the family, who has broken most of the windows, I beg for another."
"To get back to what I was saying—I've simply GOT to do a lot of duty dances. Can't you take me to the Zoo or the Post-Impressionists instead?"
"I'd rather do both. I mean all three. No, I mean both."
"Well, perhaps I would, too."
"You know, I think you'd be doing good. I've had a horrible week—canvassing, and standing in the streets, and shouting, and reading leaders, and arguing, and saying, 'My point is perfectly simple,' and—and—swearing, and all sorts of things. It's awfully jolly to—to feel that there's always—well, all THIS," and I looked round the room, "to come back to."
"Isn't that beautiful Miss Ellison I introduced you to just now part of 'all this'?"
"Oh yes, it's all part; but—"