“The man who has been down to look at the sea,” said the Nilghai.
“I didn’t know she was going to upset me in this fashion.”
“That’s what men say when they go to say good-bye to a woman. It’s more easy though to get rid of three women than a piece of one’s life and surroundings.”
“But a woman can be——” began Dick, unguardedly.
“A piece of one’s life,” continued Torpenhow. “No, she can’t. His face darkened for a moment. “She says she wants to sympathise with you and help you in your work, and everything else that clearly a man must do for himself. Then she sends round five notes a day to ask why the dickens you haven’t been wasting your time with her.”
“Don’t generalise,” said the Nilghai. “By the time you arrive at five notes a day you must have gone through a good deal and behaved accordingly.
Shouldn’t begin these things, my son.”
“I shouldn’t have gone down to the sea,” said Dick, just a little anxious to change the conversation. “And you shouldn’t have sung.”
“The sea isn’t sending you five notes a day,” said the Nilghai.
“No, but I’m fatally compromised. She’s an enduring old hag, and I’m sorry I ever met her. Why wasn’t I born and bred and dead in a three-pair back?”