“You don’t suppose there is an Andrew Robb, do you?” he asked. “I feel certain there isn’t. Nobody ever really was called that, do you think?”
“I don’t see any inherent impossibility in it.”
“Oh, surely it can’t happen! Do you often go to first nights?”
“Hardly ever,” said she. “Until this last fortnight, I don’t suppose I have slept in town half a dozen times in the last three years.”
“How wise.”
“Yet Peggy tells me that you are the most confirmed of Cockneys, and are in town nine months out of the twelve.”
“Yes; but then I like it,” said Hugh, eating fish very fast. “So that is wise also. How few people know what they like!”
“Yes, but does that surprise you? I think it is rather difficult to know what one likes. Anyhow, most people only see the world through the eyes of others. In consequence they only like, or think they like, what other people like.”
“I know what I like,” remarked Hugh roundly.
“And what is that?”