"Unless she is deaf," I pointed out, "she could scarcely have avoided it. She probably thinks we are a couple of music-hall comedians."
"Perhaps I had better call to-morrow and apologize," said George thoughtfully.
I looked him in the eyes.
"George," I observed, "if I find you thrusting your society on that defenceless young woman, I shall communicate with the local policeman."
"She is not defenceless," objected George. "She has a dog and an old woman with her; and as for youth—well, I am but a lad myself."
I laughed unkindly.
"In the matter of hair," I said, glancing at the top of George's head.
"Hair," said George hastily, "has nothing to do with it. Hair is an excrescence, a hideous and perpetual reminder of our arboreal ancestry."
"You had better tell her that," I replied. "She would appreciate it."
"I was not speaking of bronze hair. You never saw a bronze-haired monkey."