King—With such a platonic background, how did you manage to break her heart?
Bart—That's the queer part. Tuesday night after Tosca, we had a little supper at her apartments. We were talking about friendship, and I told her what a bully little pal she had been, and how I'd miss our good times when I went home and married Lucy.
King—You mentioned Lucy?
Bart—Why shouldn't I?
King—I should call it a strategic error.
Bart—I suppose it was a mistake.
King—It's rank idiocy, my boy, to tell one woman you love another.
Bart—It seemed to break her all up. She declared I'd led her to believe I was going to marry her, that she had given her heart unreservedly to me—
King—(Quickly.) She had "given her heart unreservedly to you?" Did she use those words?
Bart—I'm not apt to forget them, especially as she repeated everything half a dozen times. She made me feel as if I'd deserted her at the altar. I tell you, I never went through such an awful hour in my life.