David found he agreed with this.
“You’re a jolly sympathetic sort of pal,” he said at length.
Bags had a certain defence.
“Well, it seems so queer of you,” he said. “It’s rot if you’re going to think about and talk about nothing else than a female girl. Besides, she must be frightfully old. I shouldn’t wonder if she was twenty. Why, your mother had been married three years when she was as old as that.”
“Yes, and had had two children and had also died,” said David rather embarrassingly.
“Oh, sorry; I didn’t know,” said Bags. “But about your girl now,” he went on hurriedly. “How do you know she isn’t engaged already? She easily might be; she’s awfully pretty. I grant you that: at least, I suppose she is, though both you and I used to think that all girls looked exactly alike.”
“Idiots! Idiots we were!” said David, kicking wildly in the air.
“And what are you going to do?” continued Bags, who always saw the practical issues. “Are you going to tell her how frightfully keen you are on her!”
“I expect she guesses,” said David solemnly. “She came to tea with me twice in my study, and it’s rather marked for a fellow to ask a don’s daughter to tea twice in the same half, specially if she comes the first time.”
“Well, but you didn’t say anything sweet and moonlightly to her,” said Bags. “You talked about nothing but cricket. Besides, Plugs and I were there the whole time, and so was Mother Gray.”