“So you think,” said Julia.
“So did you. Now—one brief hour after we’ve left it, you begin to boggle at what you call the wisdom of pickin’ the godsend up.”
He flung up his hands with a despairing gesture and subsided heavily upon the club-kerb.
“I’m afraid the gent’s fickle,” said Julia, “as well as selfish.” Challenger set his teeth. “On Friday Hill Street has it. On Saturday South Street’s the peach. I wonder what’ll win it on Monday.”
“Monday?” cried Hubert. “You don’t mean to suggest——”
“Why not?” said Julia.
Her fiancé drew in his breath.
“If you seek sorrow on Monday, you seek it alone.”
“Don’t be absurd,” said Julia.
“I’m not being absurd,” raved Hubert. “The whole thing’s monstrous. One of us is insane.”