"I should like you to see Flossie."
"Flossie?" said the Honourable John Ruffin. "Ah—the WOMAN." He looked at Hilary Vance very earnestly. "Yes, I see—I see—of course her name would be Flossie." Then he added sternly:
"No; if I saw her James might accuse me of having encouraged you. He would, in fact. He always does."
"She's only at the florist's just at the end of the street," said Hilary Vance in a persuasive tone.
"She would be," said the Honourable John Ruffin in a tone of extraordinary patience. "I don't know why it is that the WOMAN is so often at a florist's at the end of the street. It seems to be one of nature's strange whims." His face grew very gloomy again and in a very sad tone he added:
"Good-bye, poor old chap; good-bye!"
He shook hands firmly with his puzzled friend and started briskly up the street. Ten yards up it he paused, turned and called back:
"She's everything that's womanly, isn't she?"
"Yes—everything," cried Hilary Vance with fervour.
The Honourable John Ruffin shook his head sadly and without another word walked briskly on.