china on the front piazza. I had been handing plates to Galvin over my left shoulder, and my first intimation of my young neighbour’s presence came in the form of what I may describe as the evaporation of my faithful attendant into thin air.
“Excuse me,” I said, looking up. “I did not see you.” I was covered from top to toe with the ubiquitous excelsior, warm, tired, and rather cross.
“You will end by marrying your cook,” observed Miss Berrith with extreme irrelevancy.
“Nothing of the sort!” I exclaimed indignantly. “Whatever put that idea into your head?”
“I’m not sure,” said she. “Just seeing you working there together, all so comfy, I suppose. Propinquity — association — kindred interests — they accomplish wonders, you know.”
“Did you get a good look at her?” I demanded.
