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MISS MAPP
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no doubt would settle it satisfactorily, but this bachelor life, with plenty of golf and diaries, was not to be lightly exchanged for the unknown. Short of that...

A light broke, and he got to his feet, following the gleam and walking very lame out of general discomfiture.

“Tell you what it is, Puffin,” he said. “You and I, particularly you, owe that estimable lady a very profound apology for what happened last night. You ought to withdraw every word you said, and I every word that I didn’t say.”

“Can’t be done,” said Puffin. “That would be giving up my hold over your lady friend. We should be known as drunkards all over the shop before you could say winkie. Worse off than before.”

“Not a bit of it. If it’s Miss Mapp, and I’m sure it is, who has been spreading these these damaging rumours about our duel, it’s because she’s outraged and offended, quite rightly, at your conduct to her last night. Mine, too, if you like. Ample apology, sir, that’s the ticket.”

“Dog-ticket,” said Puffin. “No thanks.”

“Very objectionable expression,” said Major Flint. “But you shall do as you like. And so, with your permission, shall I. I shall apologize for my share in that sorry performance, in which, thank God, I only played a minor rôle. That’s my view, and if you don’t like it, you may dislike it.”

Puffin yawned.

“Mapp’s a cat,” he said. “Stroke a cat and you’ll get scratched. Shy a brick at a cat, and she’ll spit at you and skedaddle. You’re poor company to-night, Major, with all these qualms.”

“Then, sir, you can relieve yourself of my company,” said the Major, “by going home.”