"No."
"Of course you wouldn't. That's the sort of thing one keeps to oneself."
"Yes; but as I shall never see her——"
Roland adopted in reply the stern tone of admonition, "Of course not; but if I told you, you'd take jolly good care that you did see her, and then you'd tell someone else. You'd point her out and say, 'That girl wanted me to come out for a walk with her.' You know you would, and of course the other fellow would promise not to tell anyone and of course he would. It would be round the whole place in a week, and think how the poor girl would feel being laughed at by everyone because a fellow four years younger than herself wouldn't have anything to do with her."
"What! Four years older than me."
"About that."
"And she's pretty, you say?"
"Jolly."
There was a pause.
"You know, Whately," he began, "I'd rather ..." then broke off. "Oh, look here, do tell me."