"Fine weather we're having," said Mortimer, who was a capital conversationalist.
"Yes," said the girl.
"I like fine weather."
"So do I."
"There's something about fine weather!"
"Yes."
"It's—it's—well, fine weather's so much finer than weather that isn't fine," said Mortimer.
He looked at the girl a little anxiously, fearing he might be taking her out of her depth, but she seemed to have followed his train of thought perfectly.
"Yes, isn't it?" she said. "It's so—so fine."
"That's just what I meant," said Mortimer. "So fine. You've just hit it."