"But how," I wondered, "do you know I want to say anything?"
"You look charged to the nozzle," he answered elegantly. "What is it—a rare edition of somebody or other?" Amazing devil, Dibdin. I always resent his ability to read me in this manner. But he tells me that in his archeological expeditions he has had so often to watch faces of Indians, Chinese, negroes, Turks and others whose language he did not speak, that to see the desires of men in their eyes amounts with him to an added sense.
"Well, if you must know," I sat down facing him, "I am nonplussed, baffled, perplexed, at sea, on the horns of a dilemma—all of those things. I am to be married in three weeks."
"Eager swain!" was his only comment.
"Is that all you can say?"
"Well, feeling about it the way you seem to feel, I might add that you're a damn fool."
"Tell me something novel!" I retorted irritably.
"Can't," he said. "That's the only thing I know."
"Comprehensive," I sneered.
"Complete," was his succinct rejoinder.