"No," he contended in stubborn melancholy.
"Oh, I see. You wish to make a present—?"
"I—ah—suppose so," he admitted under pressure—"yes."
"Evening gloves are always acceptable. Does she go often to the theatre?"
"I—don't know."
The least suspicion of perplexed frown knitted the eyebrows of Miss Lessing.
"Well ... is she old or young?"
"I—ah—couldn't say."
"Mr. Sybarite!" said the young woman with decision.
He fixed an apprehensive gaze to hers—which inclined to disapproval, if with reservations.