“You don’t understand me. I mean that a woman has treated me in a way that has finished her whole sex as far as I am concerned. For me, women do not exist.”
“You didn’t tell me about this,” said Sir Mallaby, interested. “When did this happen? Did she jilt you?”
“Yes.”
“In America, was it?”
“On the boat.”
Sir Mallaby chuckled heartily.
“My dear boy, you don’t mean to tell me that you’re taking a shipboard flirtation seriously? Why, you’re expected to fall in love with a different girl every time you go on a voyage. You’ll get over this in a week. You’d have got over it by now if you hadn’t gone and buried yourself in a depressing place like Bingley-on-the-Sea.”
The whistle of the speaking-tube blew. Sir Mallaby put the instrument to his ear.
“All right,” he turned to Sam. “I shall have to send you away now, Sam. Man waiting to see me. Good-bye. By the way, are you doing anything to-night?”
“No.”