eyed. "My too-susceptible friend," I said, "you are very far gone."
"Yes," he answered: "I am really in love. It is too ridiculous. Please don't tell anyone."
"I shall certainly tell no one," I declared. "But it does not seem to me exactly ridiculous."
He gave me a grateful stare: "Ah, if you don't find it so, tant mieux."
"Regrettable, rather: that's what I should call it."
He gave me another stare: "You think I can't afford it?"
"It is not so much that."
"You think it won't look well? I will arrange it so that the harshest critic will be disarmed. This morning," he added in a moment, "she looks lovelier than ever."
"Yes, I have had a glimpse of her myself," I said. "And you have been in the shop?"
"I have spent half an hour there. I thought it best to go straight to the point."
"What did you say?'
"I said the simple truth—that I have an intense desire to possess her."
"And the hairdresser's wife? how did she take it?"
"She seemed a good deal amused."
"Amused, simply? Nothing more?"
