"And the three gifts are," said he, "Faith, and the sense of Beauty, and the sense of Humour."
"And I should have thought, an attractive member of the opposite sex," said she. "Is it a woman?"
"Well," he at last replied, appearing to take counsel with himself, "I don't know why I should forbid myself the relief of owning up to you that in a sense it is."
"Hurray!" cried she, moving in her seat, agog, as one who scented her pet diversion. "A love affair! I'll be your confidante. Tell me all about it."
"Yes, in a sense, a love affair," he confessed.
"Good—excellent," she approved. "But—but what do you mean by 'in a sense'?"
"Ah," said he, darkly nodding, "I mean whole worlds by that."
"I don't understand," said she, her face prepared to fall.
"It isn't one woman—it's a score, a century, of the dear things," he announced.
Her face fell. "Oh—?" she faltered.