Judith laughed below her breath and called me a simpleton.
“Why?” I asked.
“Because you haven’t got a temperament.”
This was a foolish answer, having no bearing on the question. I told her so. She replied that she was years older than I, and had learned the eternal relevance of all things. I pointed out that she was years younger.
“How many heart-beats have you had in your life—real, wild, pulsating heart-beats—eternity in an hour?”
“That’s Blake,” I murmured.
“I’m aware of it. Answer my question.”
“It’s a silly question.”
“It isn’t. The next time you see a female baby in a perambulator, take off your hat respectfully.”
I am afraid I am clumsy at repartee.