"No, not often," said Captain Holiday serenely again, "only occasionally when I've had a bad night and feel off colour and pippy!"
I couldn't help laughing. The sustaining, intoxicating conceit of men! As Elizabeth says, it's the only thing that could keep them going since the war restrictions!
Then he looked quickly sideways at me.
"You think that's neck," he remarked. "Perhaps you think there is no reason why any girl should like me?"
And for the moment his voice dropped a tone, and there was a wistfulness on his brown face. I stopped laughing. I didn't want to hurt his feelings in any way. Besides, when one came to think of it, he was quite nice enough for a girl to like him—quite much!
Thoughtfully I said:—
"So much depends upon the kind of girl!" and then I asked, "What kind of girl is she?" in a tone as gentle as I could make it, so as to avoid jarring him.
But in quite a matter-of-fact, usual sort of tone the young man replied:
"Oh, well! She's the girl I want."
Helpful, wasn't it?