"Yes, the chronic question."
Cynthia looked out at me, a world of sincerity shooting from her eyes.
"To tell you the truth," said she, "Jones is simply impossible! I couldn't, really! Why, Mr. Jones, Jones is synonymous with anonymous. And then Hiram Jones!" She knew as well as I did myself what I wanted to ask her. I told her so.
Cynthia stood for a moment looking meditatively at me.
"I don't know why I shouldn't, after all," said she in a musing tone.
My heart leaped up into my throat.
"I might call you 'J,'" she said.
"And I might call you 'A,'" answered I. "'"A" was an archer and shot at a beau.'"
"Shot with a bow, you mean," said Cynthia; "but, really, the words run, '"A" was an archer and shot at a frog.'"