"It was really."
"And I've lost," she pondered aloud.
"And you've lost."
She raised her eyes with a glance in which he could read perfect faith, glad acknowledgment, and entire surrender.
"Do you want me to keep telling you?" she demanded with adorable petulance.
"There is Henry Donald!" exclaimed Miss Normaine. "I didn't see him before. He has grown stout, hasn't he?"
"Yes, and bald."
"Isn't he young to be bald and stout too? Do tell me that he is," urged Miss Normaine with pathos. "He seems just out of college to me, and I don't like to think that I've lost all sense of proportion."
"Oh, no, you haven't," said Arnold, consolingly. "It's only he that has lost his. He doesn't take exercise enough. He's coming this way to speak to you. You had better think of something more flattering to say."
"I never thought Harry Donald would get stout and bald," went on Miss Normaine, to herself. "There was a period when I let my fancy play about him, most of the time too, but I never thought of that."