Chuck took Phyllis by the arm and almost shook her.
"Then you weren't you; I mean her," he said none too clearly, "but you let me think you were."
"You mean I let you think I was I. Well, I couldn't very well help it." Phyllis's tone was apologetic, but her eyes danced.
Chuck looked appealingly at Janet.
"You know what I mean," he said.
"Of course, it's perfectly plain," Janet replied consolingly. "You thought she was me while all the time she was she and me was me,"—the hodge-podge of pronouns and their ungrammatical use was too much for poor Chuck. He buried his head in his hands, the picture of despair.
Phyllis took the opportunity of exchanging a nod and a sly wink with Janet that she apparently understood, for without a second's hesitation she slipped out of her place and Phyllis took it.
"Well, anyhow you can dance,"—Chuck lifted his head and looked at Janet. Howard and John promptly doubled over in a fit of laughter.
"Oh, but I'm so sorry I can't," Janet said demurely.
Chuck looked at Phyllis. "Then neither of you dance, I see," he said slowly.