Minikin glanced round the room. “Must be fond of you.”
“She thinks I'm clever,” I explained, “and that I shall make my way.”
“And she's willing to wait?”
I nodded.
“Well, I should let her wait,” replied Minikin, replacing his eye. “There's plenty of time before you.”
“But she's a barmaid, and she'll expect me to walk with her, to take her out on Sundays, to go and see her friends. I can't do it. Besides, she's right: I mean to get on. Then she'll stick to me. It's awful!”
“How did it happen?” asked Minikin.
“I don't know,” I replied. “I didn't know I had done it till it was over.”
“Anybody present?”
“Half-a-dozen of them,” I groaned.