She laughed at him across the desk.
“Isn’t that queer! So am I! What a lot we have in common, Mr. Pratt!”
“I am beginning to realise it,” Jacob assented.
“If only I could make you forget Sybil!”
“If only Sybil would allow me to forget her!” Jacob groaned.
“What you need,” she said earnestly, “is to see more of other nice-looking, attractive young women of somewhat similar type.”
“There may be something in that,” he conceded.
“Apropos of which, let me explain my visit. I was told to telephone to you, but I hate a conversation down a tube, don’t you?”
“I certainly prefer your visit.”
“We’ve such a rag on,” Lady Mary continued. “We’re going to have a picnic fortnight up at our place in Scotland. We want to know whether you’ll come. Dad told me to say that there was plenty of fishing and a grouse moor for later on. Sailing, of course.”