“No progress,” replied West.
“You don’t go the right way to work,” said Bobbie knowingly. “Women folk can be managed if you only exercise a bit of what I call ingenuity.”
“I am always willing, Master Lancaster, to listen to the voice of experience.”
“What you want to do,” said the young sage, changing step as they went down Arundel Street, “is to be artful without lettin’ ’em see that you’re artful.”
“I know of no plan,” said West, “by which, under modern conditions, you can force a lady to marry you if she has decided not to do so.”
“Pretend there’s another lady,” suggested Bobbie;
“Always a risk that the announcement may be received with undisguised satisfaction.”
“Can but give it a trial,” urged Bobbie. “If she’s an ordinary sort of young lady, strikes me she’ll marry you like a shot. Is this my station?”
“This is the Temple Station,” said West. “Buy your ticket and be careful not to get out of the train before you get to Bishopsgate.”
“All right,” said Bobbie. “I’m old enough to take care of meself.”