"Surely not. Just let me look a moment…. No, I thought not. You don't meet till the next paragraph. If you wouldn't mind taking a seat, I shan't be a moment."
Reginald stood up.
"Look here," he said. "Do you know who I am?"
"You're just Reginald," I said; "and there's no need to stand about looking so dignified, because I only thought of you ten minutes ago, and if you're not careful I shall change your name to Harold. You're Reginald, and you're going to meet Dorothy in the next paragraph, and you'll flirt with her mildly for about two columns. And at the end, I expect—no, I am almost sure, that you will propose and be accepted."
"Never," said Reginald angrily.
"That's what we've come about," said Dorothy.
I rubbed my forehead wearily.
"Would one of you explain?" I asked. "I can't think what's happened.
You're at least a paragraph ahead of me."
Reginald sat down again and lit a cigarette.
"It's simply this," he said, trying to keep calm. "You may call me what you like, but I am always the same person week after week."