“Me?” cried Tommy. “My dear Clementina, that’s absurd.”
“I thought you would agree with me,” said Clementina, “but I’m going to do it. Wouldn’t you like to come?”
“I should think so!” he exclaimed, boyishly. “It would be gorgeous. But——”
“But what?”
“How can I afford to go motoring abroad?”
“You wouldn’t have to afford it. You would be my guest.”
“It’s delightful of you, Clementina, to think of it—but it’s impossible.”
Whereupon an argument arose such as has often arisen between man and woman.
“I’m old enough to be your grandmother, or at least you think so, which comes to the same thing,” said Clementina.
Tommy’s young pride would not allow him to accept largesse from feminine hands, however elderly and unromantic.