“Your friend is a clergyman, I presume?” I asked.
I had noticed the poster of an evening paper with the words “Clerical Scandal,” and I suppose that put this solution into my head.
“My friend is a she,” she replied, with a laugh. “Clergyman? No, thanks! We are doing it all ourselves.”
“Ha, ha!” I laughed. “I see now what you mean! Excellent! Forgive my stupidity.”
I did not see at all, but I supposed that there must be some English idiom which I did not understand. Doubtless I had lost an innuendo, but then one must expect leakage somewhere. Surely I was obtaining enough and could afford to lack a little.
At last we arrived at dessert.
“I wonder if my uncle has come?” she said.
“I have just been visited by a presentiment,” I replied. “General Sholto has retired to bed. This information has been conveyed to me by a spirit—the spirit of love!”
She looked at me with a new expression. Ought I to have restrained my ardor a little longer?
“Does he know I am here?” she asked, quickly.