"That's what it is to be Eyes and No Eyes in amatory affairs. No Eyes sees two people part, 'uncommon off-hand and chilly.'" She mimicked Bingo's tone. "Eyes sees that and something more! A man's coat-button dropped on the floor of a railway carriage, for instance, and a young woman who slyly picks it up—silly little gage d'amour—and kisses it when a considerate observer pretends not to be looking, and hides it away! Is that evidence, Major Mole?"
"By the Living Tinker!" he thundered, "I wouldn't have believed it of her!"
"Of course you wouldn't!" She rummaged in an open suit-case. "What necktie do you want to wear to-day?"
He mumbled ruefully, eyeing her over the coffee-cup:
"Any of 'em. It don't matter which. They're all alike when you've tied 'em!"
She beamed at what seemed to her a gallant speech.
"Sans compliment? You really mean it? And you won't miss Grindlay so frightfully, after all?"
He shook his head ambiguously.
"I shan't begin really to suffer for Grindlay—not till it comes to tubbin' with one fin."
"Mercy upon us!" She gasped in consternation. He said, controlling his features from wreathing into triumphant smiles: