George demurred. Downright lying was all very well; he could manage
that with passable craft, especially when, as in this instance,
detection would be difficult; but prophecy was a little out of his
line. Though with misgivings, he resorted to unvarnished truth:

"You never can tell about P.S. He's a queer little gink."

Footsteps became audible on the stairs below.

"Well, so long. See you at dinner," George added in haste.

"George!"

"Well?" he asked, delaying with ill grace.

"What makes you sound so funny?"

"Laughin'!" protested George convincingly.

With determination and a heavy tread he went on to his room.




VI

SPRING TWILIGHT


When he had shaved (with particular care) and changed his linen