'Husky Ping-pong,' she said, half to herself. 'Poor Husky Ping-Pong. Do you grow them in England?'
'Yes, heaps. They grow in London. They are always at every party, and they know everybody, and make themselves immensely agreeable. It is all they do. And you see them in the back seats of motor-cars.'
She looked at him with some mischief in her eyes.
'And what do you do?' she asked.
'No more than they. Anyone is at liberty to call one a ping-pong. Only I'm not.'
'I know. I was wondering what the difference was according to your description.'
'There is none, I suppose. But don't confuse me with ping-pongs.'
She laughed.
'Lord Keynes, you are just adorable,' she said. 'I'll race you to the end of the avenue.'
'Adoring me all the time?'