Yaverland said, "Oh, what nonsense! I was just thinking how rippingly you ran."
"Havers!" she replied. "You were thinking nothing of the sort. You were wondering what for I carried an iron-monger's shop in my pocket. But yon rattling's just a tin with some coconuts I've in it that I made last night and slipped in in case you'd like it, rubbing up against my protractor."
"But why in Heaven's name," Yaverland asked, "do you carry a protractor about with you?"
"Off and on I try and keep up my Euclid and do a rider over my lunch, and I just keep a protractor handy."
Yaverland stopped. "Ellen," he said, "I haven't known you very long." There was the faintest knitting of her brows, and he added evenly, "I may call you Ellen, mayn't I? This modern comradeship between men and women...." "Och, yes," beamed Ellen, fascinated by the talismanic catchword, and he felt a little ashamed because he had used one of her pure enthusiasms for his own purposes. Sometimes he was conscious of a detestable adroitness in his relations with women; it was not respectful; it was half-brother to the carneying art of the seducer, but he could not take back the insincerity. "As I say, I haven't known you very long. But may I ask you a favour?"
"Surely," said Ellen.
"Turn out your pockets."
"But why?"
"I want to see what's in 'em."
"Well," said Ellen resignedly, "there are worse vices than inquisitiveness. Both pockets?"