"Talk philosophy, then," Bobby returned.
"But I must say something to him, after he gets through singing; and now that I have seen him, three or four times, I can't launch into a sea of platitudes."
"I thought women could always go to sea in a platitude. It is as leaky as a sieve, and not half so likely to upset and leave one floating without any support at all."
Sally laughed outright.
"Beware of Bobby, when he turns metaphorical! He suggests a second-hand curio shop."
Lorimer glanced up at her, with a whimsical smile twisting his lips.
"Your own rhetoric isn't above reproach, Miss Van Osdel. But has it ever occurred to you that Young America has abandoned its sieve for a man of war? I met a callow junior from Harvard, the other day, and by way of making polite conversation, I asked him to suggest a clever subject for a debate. He promptly told me that at his eating club they had been discussing the origins of morality."
Bobby whistled, to the huge delight of the butler. That factotum revelled in the pranks of "Master Bobby" who had upset his dignity at least once a week for the past fifteen years.
"In our time we took our pleasures less sadly, Lorimer. What are we all coming to?"
"To congenital senility."