"I wish I were. Do you know how a male newt proposes, Bertie? He just
stands in front of the female newt vibrating his tail and bending his
body in a semi-circle. I could do that on my head. No, you wouldn't find
me grousing if I were a male newt."

"But if you were a male newt, Madeline Bassett wouldn't look at you. Not
with the eye of love, I mean."

"She would, if she were a female newt."

"But she isn't a female newt."

"No, but suppose she was."

"Well, if she was, you wouldn't be in love with her."

"Yes, I would, if I were a male newt."

A slight throbbing about the temples told me that this discussion had
reached saturation point.

"Well, anyway," I said, "coming down to hard facts and cutting out all
this visionary stuff about vibrating tails and what not, the salient
point that emerges is that you are booked to appear at a fancy-dress
ball. And I tell you out of my riper knowledge of fancy-dress balls,
Gussie, that you won't enjoy yourself."

"It isn't a question of enjoying yourself."