"You—you ain't half so shurprised as—as I am myshelf," says he, chucklin'. "Tha's what I told Louishe."
"Oh, you mentioned it to Louise, did you?" says I. "I expect that was the lovely lady who carted you off in the taxi?"
He nods and springs another one of them silly smiles. "Tha's ri'," says he. "The lovely Louishe."
"Tell me, Ernie," says I, "how long has this been going on?"
And what do you suppose this fathead has the front to spring on me? That this was the first time he'd ever seen her. Uh-huh! He sticks to that tale. Even claims he don't know what the rest of her name is.
"Louishe, tha's all," says he. "Th' lovely Louishe."
"Oh, very well," says I. "We'll let it ride at that. And I expect she picked you out all on account of your compelling beauty? Must have been a sudden case, from the fond clinch I saw you gettin' as the cab started."
Ernie closed his eyes slow, like he was goin' over the scene again, and then remarks: "Thash when I begun to be surprished. Louishe has most affec-shanate nashur."
"So it would seem," says I. "But where did the party take place?"
That little detail appears to have escaped Ernie. He remembered that there were pink candles on the table, and music playing, and a lot of nice people around. Also that the waiter's head was shiny, like an egg. He thought it must have been at some hotel on Fifth Avenue. Yes, they went in through a sidewalk canopy. It was a very nice dinner, too—'specially the pheasant and the parfait in the silver cup. And it was so funny to watch the bubbles keep coming up through the glass stem.