“Except whom?” I asked.
“Me—if you must know,” said Teddy.
“You kissed her?” I cried.
“Well, it doesn't matter to you.”
“Nor does it matter to you that I did,” I retorted.
“But did you?” he asked, with such a painful look of inquiry that my indignation melted into humor.
“My dear friend,” I replied, “I see it all now. She has deceived us both! We are in the same ship, as you would say; two of those fools that women make to pass a wet afternoon.”
“You mean that she has been flirting with me?” he asked, with a woe-begone countenance.
“Also with me,” I answered, cheerfully. For a false woman, like spilled cream, is not a matter worth lament.
“I shall ask her,” he said, after a minute or two.