'Do you mean that you used to know Miss Bannerman?' asked Mrs. Hilary in her pleasant prosaic way.
It was a sin seventeen years old: it would hardly count against the blameless Miss Bannerman now.
'You may tell her when I'm gone,' said I to Miss Phyllis.
Miss Phyllis whispered in Mrs. Hilary's ear.
'Another!' cried Mrs. Hilary, aghast.
'It was the very first,' said I, defending myself.
Mrs. Hilary began to laugh. I smoothed my hat.
'Tell her,' said I, 'that I remembered her very well.'
'I shall do no such thing,' said Mrs. Hilary.
'And tell her,' I continued, 'that I am still handsome.'
'I shan't say a word about you,' said Mrs. Hilary.
'Ah, well, that will be better still,' said I.
'She'll have forgotten your very name,' remarked Mrs. Hilary.
I opened the door, but a thought struck me. I turned round and observed,—
'I daresay her hair's just as soft as ever. Still—I'll lunch some other day.'
