I sent her a look that was meant to say, "You ought to know better;" but it missed fire somehow. She went on swinging her feet and laughing softly at me over Jimmy's shoulder. She seemed, like Jimmy, to be contemplating some exquisite knowledge that she had. And at last she said:
"Aren't you glad now that you didn't marry me?"
I said, "What am I to say to that?"
Jimmy got up and clapped me on the shoulder. "Never mind her," he said.
"Tell the truth and shame the devil. Tell her you're thundering glad."
At that she slid down from her perch and came round to me and patted me very gently on the head.
"I am, Wally. Jimmy, you're a beast."
And she went out of the room. Jimmy said that nothing she had contributed to the discussion became her like her leaving it.
She had left it to him.
He got into his chair again and sat down to it.
"Now, perhaps," he said, "you see how right I was."