“Curious, you say?” The girl laughed softly. “And still you’ve never asked.”
“No. I fancied there’d ultimately be an end, a variation at least; but it seems I was mistaken. Do you expect to keep them, as a man does a case of razors, one for each day of the week?”
Again the soft little amused laugh. 168
“Hardly. I sell them. There are five more in prospect—an even dozen.”
“Oh. I wondered.”
Another void; an equally abrupt return.
“To come back to the date,” recalled the man, “I remembered it distinctly this morning when I tore the top leaf off the desk-pad. It stood out as though it were printed in red ink, like the date of a holiday. I—do I show signs of becoming senile—childish, Elice?”
“Not that I’ve noticed. You seem normal.”
“Nor irresponsible—moonstruck—nothing of that kind?”
“No.”