"Come, come," I exclaimed, "you surely cannot have forgotten that little chat we had at Coventry?"
"Coventry?" he asked. "But how long ago was that?"
"Quite recently," I asserted.
"But I haven't set foot in Coventry for years," said he.
"Nor have I, ever," said I.
I could understand his feelings thoroughly. It might be that I was a liar; it might be that I was a lunatic. In either case he did not wish to converse further with me. Happily, I had two newspapers available.
As the speed of our train, in which of old he had taken such a pride, began to slacken: "And I shouldn't be surprised," I said from behind my paper, "if you and I saw each other again quite soon. The world is a small place and these things soon develop into a habit."
He made no answer from behind his paper.
"If you ask me when and where" (as in fact he didn't), "I should say it is just as likely as not to happen at Birmingham at about 8.55 P.M.," I estimated, relying upon his own schedule.