"Many thanks for yours of yesterday. I am having a very good time and it is really kind of me to write."
"If you won't be sensible—"
"I am. It's just because I'm so serious that I jest. All the wittiest men are broken-hearted. Go on."
"Well, my dear Billy, you mustn't be foolish. I'm very fond of you, but you're so ridiculously young."
"You haven't a revolver about you?" I enquired.
Daphne sighed. "Billy, you're quite hopeless. Do let me try to explain. You see, I can't—well—flirt with you, because I don't really flirt, of course, and besides your cousin's different—he's married."
I got up quickly. "Good-bye," I said. "You must excuse my leaving you."
Daphne looked surprised. "Where are you going?" she enquired.
"To get married." I walked away with my head in the air.