“You see, I’ve never had a girl friend,” I added, by way of topping the obelisk of silliness with the capstone of fatuity. It was only a step now to something about the refining influence of woman, the pitiable loneliness of the bachelor, affinity, platonic affection, and the rest of it. I felt that I could have bitten off my tongue-tip. Instead, I ate a sweet cake, which went promptly to my head, and there installed itself in the vacuum which I had fondly imagined was occupied by something remotely resembling a brain.
It was curious that Miss Berrith made no reply. She was bending solicitously over the flame of the alcohol lamp (there was nothing whatever the matter with it) and her hair looked uncommonly fluffy. The sweet cake which was performing the process of cerebration for me suggested that I rather liked it that way. After all, there was something about her …
I looked down at my teacup. It was full for
