“I mean just this, Grace. You’ve gone and bowled me neck and heels.”
“Why, you said just now,” said she, “that you had strained your heart.”
“Yes,” said I, eagerly but crudely, “my heart’s strained as well. And you’ve gone and clean bowled me. Now put two and two together, Grace. Surely you must see what I mean.”
“No, I’ll go to Klondyke if I do,” said Grace, in despair. “Your heart strained—clean bowled. No, I’ll go to Klondyke if I do! Is it a riddle?”
“A riddle,” said I, much hurt. “Oh, my dear Grace, if you only knew how serious I am! I’ll own that I’m not expressing myself very clearly. Hang it! a fellow’s not used to this sort o’ thing. I know I’m a blithering ass, you know. Oh, Grace, dash it all! you must see what I mean!”
“Blithering ass!” murmured Grace, as if to herself. “You are getting a bit more enlightening, Dimmy.”
“No, no,” I said hastily; “you’re on the wrong tack. That’s not what I want you to see. You know! you know!”
“Dimmy,” said Grace, with her marvellous blue eyes getting wider, “I shall be downright annoyed with you in a minute. You say I know when I don’t know; and when I do know, you say that I don’t know. If this is a rag, Dimmy, it’s very wicked of you, ’cause my time’s occupied. These jolly averages’ll never get done to-night. Do be a good boy and go. There, I’ve put the Old Man down wrong! Dimmy, I shall be most horribly angry in a minute.”
“Oh, drop this bally cricket!” I cried. “Do try to think of serious things a little, Grace; do try to think of what I’m saying. I do wish you’d attend to what a fellow’s saying, and help him out a bit.”
“I’d help you out with great pleasure, Dimmy, very great pleasure, I can assure you, Dimmy,” she said, “if I’d only got a boot like Charlie’s.”