Dolly looked at me, with her brow slightly puckered. I leant back, puffing at my cigarette. Presently—for there was quite a long pause—Dolly’s lips curved.
“My mental powers are not despicable,” she observed.
“I have said so,” said I.
“I think I see,” she remarked.
“Is there anything wrong?” I asked anxiously.
“N-no,” said Dolly, “not exactly wrong. In fact, I rather think I like that last bit best. Still, don’t you think—?”
She rose, came round the table, took up the pen, and put it back in my hand. “What’s this for?” I asked.
“To correct the mistake,” said Dolly.
“Do you really think so?” said I.
“I’m afraid so,” said Dolly.