"No, I say, don't! It makes me feel such a chump."

"And I'm sorry about my mouth. It is wide. But I know you're a
fair-minded man and realize that it isn't my fault."

"Don't rub it in," pleaded the young man. "As a matter of fact, if you
want to know, I think your mouth is absolutely perfect. I think," he
proceeded, a little feverishly, "that you are the most indescribable
topper that ever..."

"You were going to tell me about Scrymgeour," said Sally.

The young man blinked as if he had collided with some hard object while
sleep-walking. Eloquence had carried him away.

"Scrymgeour?" he said. "Oh, that would bore you."

"Don't be silly," said Sally reprovingly. "Can't you realize that we're
practically castaways on a desert island? There's nothing to do till
to-morrow but talk about ourselves. I want to hear all about you, and
then I'll tell you all about myself. If you feel diffident about
starting the revelations, I'll begin. Better start with names. Mine is
Sally Nicholas. What's yours?"

"Mine? Oh, ah, yes, I see what you mean."

"I thought you would. I put it as clearly as I could. Well, what is
it?"

"Kemp."