"Yes. You see, I was rather an ass in those days."

"No, no!" said R. Jones handsomely.

"I must have been or I shouldn't have been such an ass, don't you
know! Well, as I was saying, I used to write this girl letters,
saying how much I was in love with her; and--and--"

"Specifically proposing marriage?"

"I can't remember. I expect I did. I was awfully in love."

"How was that if you never met her?"

"She wouldn't meet me. She wouldn't even come out to luncheon.
She didn't even answer my letters--just sent word down by the
Johnny at the stage door. And then----"

Freddie's voice died away. He thrust the knob of his cane into
his mouth in a sort of frenzy.

"What then?" inquired R. Jones.

A scarlet blush manifested itself on Freddie's young face. His
eyes wandered sidewise. After a long pause a single word escaped
him, almost inaudible:

"Poetry!"

R. Jones trembled as though an electric current had been passed