“The—young person!”
“You’ve not told me her name, you see.”
“No, and I shan’t. I wonder if she’ll be at the Musgraves’ tonight!”
“You’re sure,” said I soothingly, “to meet her somewhere in the course of the next few weeks.”
George looked at me. Then he observed with a bitter laugh:
“It’s pretty evident you’ve never had it. You’re as bad as those chaps who write books.”
“Well, but surely they often describe with sufficient warmth and—er—color—”
“Oh, I dare say; but it’s all wrong. At least, it’s not what I feel. Then look at the girls in books! All beasts!”
George spoke with much vehemence; so that I was led to say:
“The lady you are preoccupied with is, I suppose, handsome?”