I gave him my two hands and pulled him out of his chair.
"Can you foretell the future?" I asked with a scepticism worthy of Nigel Rawnsley. "What time shall I breakfast to-morrow? What shall I have for supper to-night? What tie shall I wear next Friday fortnight?"
The Seraph shook his head without answering.
"Very well, then," I said decisively.
"But you don't know either."
Of course he was right.
"I may not know now," I said, "but I shall make up my mind in due course, and do whatever I've made up my mind to do—whether it's choosing a tie or...."
"Proposing to Joyce. Exactly. I've never pretended to tell you more than what's in your own mind."
"You talked about the woman X. was going to marry, not merely propose to. The last word doesn't lie with X."
"True. But if I know what's passing in Joyce's mind?"