“I do. Don’t you?”
“Yes. But somebody told me the other day that I was getting old. Perhaps that explains why I don’t seem able to let myself go as I used to do.”
“Doesn’t that depend a good deal upon who you are with?”
“Yes, I’ve been keeping dull company lately, chiefly my own.”
“That’s not a pretty compliment to me!”
“I said ‘lately,’ not to-night. I don’t think even a plaster saint could be dull with you.”
“I can be dull with myself.”
“That may be; it takes flint and steel to strike a spark.”
“Which am I?”
“Does it matter—so long as the flame comes?”