“Fleeting,” answered my tormentor, “but fairly comprehensive.”
“And you actually think there is a possibility of my marrying that.”
Miss Berrith shrugged her shoulders.
“Who knows?” she answered flippantly. “There is nothing more illogical than the persons other persons marry.”
“I think I am quite safe, so far as Galvin is concerned,” I said haughtily, “and it is a mile to another woman.”
“Is it?” asked Miss Berrith with a pretense at innocence. “I should not have thought the distance more than five yards.”
I considered this to be the extreme of audacity, and very properly ignored it.
“And in any event— a cook!” I protested.
She appeared to reflect. Little did I foresee the bomb which she was preparing to explode at my devoted feet.
“Why,” she asked slowly, “is a girl like a cook?”
