"Oh, stop!" cried my wife. "You're muddling me all up. Are you talking about Johnny or—"
"Name of a pipe, my cabbage," I said, determined to give her logic with swear-words and endearments as well, "where has your reasoning gone to? Any logical Frenchman would tell you at once that I wasn't talking about Johnny, but about her girl. As I was saying, their shoes have each a dinky Gibson bow on her."
"M'sieu'," reflected M. du Val in his polite way, "I begin to think zat you are getting ze advantage over me."
"Don't take any notice of him, Mosseer," pleaded my wife indignantly; "he's only pulling your leg."
"Pulling my—?" The Frenchman cogitated for a minute; then he understood and smiled in a superior way again. "All the same," he murmured quietly, "we French 'ave not all ze illogicalness, n'est ce pas?"
"Not quite all," I cheerfully agreed. "By the way, would you like to come with us this afternoon to the great Review in Hyde Park? Her Majesty the King will be there, also the Queen and very likely His Royal Highness Princess Mary—"
"I come wiz muchness of pleasure," assented our guest very hurriedly. Then, being a thorough little sportsman, he added with a bow:—
"If M'sieu' could persuade 'er wife to wear 'is new 'at, so veray charming?"