"Good Heavens!" cried Miss Childe.
"But you wouldn't tell me your name."
"False modesty. Seriously you don't mean to say——"
"But I do. Nothing was hid from me. Your little bare feet——"
A stifled scream interrupted me.
"This," said Miss Childe, "is awful." We turned into the mews. "What are you doing to-morrow?"
"Dictating. You see, there's a dream I want recorded."
"I shall expect you at half-past one. We can start after lunch. I've a beautiful hand."
"I know you have. Two of them. They were bare, too," I added reflectively.
With a choking sound, Miss Childe got into the car.