“And what about the little lady you dined with on Saturday?”
“Oh, I’ve chucked her. I think Mrs. Castillyon will be more economical. She’s got lots of tin, and I’m blowed if I see why a man should always be expected to fork out for women.”
“You’re trying to reconcile two contradictory things, my boy—love and economy.”
Reggie marched off to Bond Street, and finding that Mrs. Castillyon was not yet arrived, began to walk up and down; but having waited half an hour, he grew annoyed, and it was with no smiling countenance that he met the pretty little lady when at length she drove up. “Have I kept you waiting?” she asked airily.
“Yes, you have,” he answered.
“It’s good for you.”
She tripped in, and they ordered tea.
“I can’t possibly eat those cakes,” she said. “Tell them to bring some more.”
The next plateful was as little to her taste, and she called for a third.
“I think I like the first lot best, after all,” she said, when these were produced.