"Imagined I was once."
"Oh, what fun! Tell me about it from beginning to end!"
"How do you know it had an end!"
"I'd gamble on it," said Bobby, confidently. "But tell me!"
Just why Percival at this moment felt a sudden desire to discuss a subject that hitherto he had shrunk from the slightest reference to can be explained only by the fact that the confiding of an unhappy love affair to a sympathetic member of the opposite sex seems a necessary stage of convalescence. It was the first chance he had had to present his version of the story to an unbiased listener, and if he omitted certain details, and laid undue stress upon others, it must not be held against him.
"Of course," he said in conclusion, "through a sense of honor I'd have gone through with it. Fortunately, it was not necessary. Poor girl broke it off herself."
He spoke as of one who had committed suicide, but in regard to whom a kindly jury would have brought in a verdict of temporary insanity.
"Well, I think you were perfectly splendid, all through," cried Bobby. "What sort of a girl could she have been to act like that?"
He took several long, satisfying pulls at his cigar; it was astonishing how much he was enjoying it, and the conversation as well.
"Oh, she's quite one of the best, you know. Dare say she thought it was all my fault."