And once again she smiled indulgently.
"You never can know how you're going to match up until after you've tried it—and then it's too late," she answered. "That is the pity of it, Sheldon, that is the pity of it."
"The pity of what?" asked Pendleton, who had happened to catch her last words.
"The pity of not knowing," she replied, dismissing Burgoyne with a significant smile and turning to Pendleton.
"Not knowing what?" he asked.
"Nothing absolutely."
"Rather heavy talk for a dinner," he observed.
"It wasn't heavy—Sheldon and I were discussing the vampire and the rogue."
"Heavens!" he ejaculated.
"And we agreed that every woman is more or less vampire and every man more or less rogue."