“I told you that was quite impossible, Mr. Pendleton,” she reminded him.
“You haven’t told me why.”
“There are a hundred reasons, and they can’t be discussed here.”
“That’s it,” he exclaimed triumphantly. “That’s the whole trouble! We can’t discuss 107 things here; so let’s have our little dinner, and then there’ll be all the chance in the world for you to tell me why you shouldn’t come.”
“You’re absurd,” she declared, with an involuntary smile.
Hoping for the favor of an early reply,––
he concluded,––
I beg to remain, Madame, most sincerely yours.
“Is that all?”
“You might add this postscript”:––