Teddy handed her into the second-class compartment her season-ticket warranted, and declared she was “simply splendid. Perhaps you’ve heard—?’ Well, you know, he had. But that still left the forty pounds!. He never retires to rest till daybreak—if at all. How are you?” “I’m fine,” she said, unaware of all events except for the voice on the other line. “There is something to be said for the lady-like theory after all,” she admitted. Master Thames Ditton, I'll do your biddin'; and you, Misther Quilt Arnold, may do your worst, I defy you. And if he didn’t, what was the good of seeing him? “I wish he was a woman,” she said, “then I could make him my friend.
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