“I say, old man, weren’t you ever that way yourself?” he asked.
I hailed a hansom cab.
“Because, if you were, you know, you’d understand how a fellow remembers every—”
“Good night,” said I. “At least I suppose you’re not coming to the club?”
“Well, I think not,” said Hilary. “Ta-ta, old fellow. Sorry we bored you. Of course, if a man has never—”
“Never!” I groaned. “A score of times!”
“Well, then, doesn’t it—?
“No,” said I. “It’s just that that makes stories like yours so infernally—”
“What?” asked Hilary; for I had paused to light a cigarette.
“Uninteresting,” said I, getting into my cab.