"It wasn't that! He's perfectly fit. But it seems that the silly ass
took it into his head to propose to Billie just before dinner--
apparently he's loved her for years in a silent, self-effacing way--and
of course she told him that she was engaged to me, and the thing upset
him to such an extent that he says the idea of sitting down at a piano
and helping me give an imitation of Frank Tinney revolts him. He says
he intends to spend the evening in bed, reading Schopenhauer. I hope it
chokes him."

"But this is splendid! This lets you out."

"What do you mean? Lets me out?"

"Why, now you won't be able to appear. Oh, you will be thankful for
this in years to come."

"Won't I appear! Won't I dashed well appear! Do you think I'm going to
disappoint that dear girl when she is relying on me? I would rather
die!"

"But you can't appear without a pianist."

"I've got a pianist."

"You have?"

"Yes. A little undersized shrimp of a fellow with a green face and ears
like water-wings."