“I shall be very sorry to give up our pleasant comradeship,” said I, “but even if I stay and send the private inquiry agent instead of going myself, I shan't be able to go on seeing you in this way.”
“Why not?”
“It would be scarcely dignified.”
“On account of Dale?”
“Precisely.”
There was another pause, during which I lit another cigarette. When I looked up I saw great tears rolling down her cheeks. A weeping woman always makes me nervous. You never know what she is going to do next. Safety lies in checking the tears—in administering a tonic. Still, her wish to retain me was very touching. I rose and stood before her by the mantelpiece.
“You can't have your pudding and eat it too,” said I.
“What do you mean?”
“You can't have Captain Vauvenarde for your husband, Dale for your cavaliere servente, and myself for your guide, philosopher and friend all at the same time.”
“Which would you advise me to give up?”