A spasm of pain passed over the Honorable Freddie's vacant face.
He wriggled in his chair.

"Dickie, old man, I wish you wouldn't talk like that. It makes me
feel ill."

"Why, is he such a pal of yours as all that?"

"It's not that. It's--the fact is, Dickie, old top, I'm in
exactly the same bally hole as poor old Percy was, myself!"

"What! You have been sued for breach of promise?"

"Not absolutely that--yet. Look here; I'll tell you the whole
thing. Do you remember a show at the Piccadilly about a year ago
called "The Baby Doll"? There was a girl in the chorus."

"Several--I remember noticing."

"No; I mean one particular girl--a girl called Joan Valentine.
The rotten part is that I never met her."

"Pull yourself together, Freddie. What exactly is the trouble?"

"Well--don't you see?--I used to go to the show every other
night, and I fell frightfully in love with this girl--"

"Without having met her?"