“Sane!” he said resentfully. “I’m as sane as any one you know. It’s the job of keeping sane in this madhouse of the tropics that’s almost driven me crazy.”
“Lovely!” she approved. “Well, now that you’ve recovered, I’ll tell you what I came out to say. I’m sorry that I missed you.”
“Missed me?” he repeated. “Oh, you have missed me, then? That’s nice. You see, I’ve been so busy for the last three or four days—”
“No; I haven’t missed you a bit,” she declared indignantly. “The conceit of the man!”
“But you said you w-w-were sorry you’d—”
“Don’t be wholly a beetle! I meant I was sorry not to see you when you came to call on me this morning.”
“I didn’t come to call on you this morning.”
“No? The boy at the door said he’d seen you, or something answering to your description.”
“So he did. I came to see your father. He was out.”
“What time?”