"Seldom," she said. "I don't require the treatment."
"I was only wondering——"
"You were wondering what C. G. stood for on my satchel? I will be very glad to tell you, Mr. Seabury. C stands for Cecil, and G for Gay; Cecil Gay. Is that lucid?"
"Cecil!" he said; "that's a man's name."
"How rude! It is my name. Now, do you think your mental calibre requires any more re-boring?"
"Oh, you know about calibres and things. Do you shoot? I can talk about dogs and guns. Listen to me, Miss Gay." The subject shifted from shooting to fishing, and from hunting to driving four-in-hand, and eventually came back to the horses and the quaint depot-sleigh which was whirling them so swiftly toward their destination.
"Jack Austin and I were in Paris," he observed.
"Oh—recently?"
"Last year."