I have not
conversed with a woman, except once or twice across a counter, for
nearly three years."

There was a rather tense pause. Then Dolly said--

"We're awfully sorry, Mr Fordyce. It was very rude of us. We quite
understand now, don't we, Dilly?"

"Rather," said Dilly. "It was horrible of us, Mr Fordyce. But we thought
you were just an ordinary bore."

"Children!" said Kitty.

"But what you have told us makes things quite different, doesn't it,
Dolly?" continued Dilly.

"Quite--absolutely," said Dolly.

And they smiled upon him, quite maternally. And so the incident passed.

"How queer, not talking to a woman for three years!" continued Dolly
reflectively.

"How _awful_ it would be not to talk to a man for three years!" said
Dilly, with obvious sincerity.

"There is little opportunity for social intercourse," said Robin, "to a
man who comes to London to sink or swim."

The conversation was again taking a slightly sombre turn, and I struck
in--

"Well, I hope, Mr Fordyce, that a few weeks' experience of my
establishment won't have the effect of making you regret your previous
celibate existence."

Dolly and Dilly looked at each other.

"Dolly," said Dilly, "is that an insult?"

"I think so."

"Insulting enough to be punishable?"

"Rather."

"All right. Come on!"

They fell upon me, and the next few minutes were devoted to what I
believe is known in pantomime circles as a Grand Rally, which
necessitated my going upstairs afterwards and changing my collar.

Robin was not present at tea, and my household took advantage of his
absence to run over his points.

Considering that a woman--especially a young woman--judges a man almost
entirely by his manner and appearance, and dislikes him exceedingly if
he proceeds to dominate the situation to her exclusion--unless, by the
way, he has her permission and authority so to do, in which case he
cannot do so too much--the verdict delivered upon my absent secretary
was not by any means unfavourable, though, of course, there was much to
criticise.

"He'll do," said Dilly; "but you must get his hair cut, Adrian."

"And tell him about not wearing that sort of tie, dear," said Dolly.

"I suppose he can't help his accent," sighs Kitty.

But their criticisms were limited to such trifles as these, and I felt
that Robin had done me credit.

Dilly summed up the situation.

"I think on the whole that he is rather a pet," she said.

A more thoroughly