often lost my temper with my point.

"You little rabbit!" he chuckled. "You shall have your share, whether
you come or not; but, seriously, don't you think you might remember
the girl?"

"What's the use?" I groaned. "You agree there is nothing for it but
to give her up. I am glad to say that for myself before I asked you,
and wrote to tell her so on Sunday. Now it's Wednesday, and she
hasn't answered by line or sign. It's waiting for one word from her
that's driving me mad."

"Perhaps you wrote to Palace Gardens?"

"No, I sent it to the country. There's been time for an answer,
wherever she may be."

We had reached the Albany, and halted with one accord at the
Piccadilly portico, red cigar to red cigar.

"You wouldn't like to go and see if the answer's in your rooms?" he
asked.

"No. What's the good? Where's the point in giving her up if I'm
going to straighten out when it's too late? It is too late, I have
given her up, and I am coming with you!"

The hand that bowled the most puzzling ball in England (once it
found its length) descended on my shoulder with surprising
promptitude.