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Without the Option

urged by some overwhelming force to do some absolutely blithering act. You get it every now and then when you’re in a crowded theatre and something seems to be egging you on to shout “Fire!” and see what happens. Or you’re talking to someone and all at once you feel “Now, suppose I suddenly biffed this bird in the eye!”

Well, what I’m driving at is that at this juncture, with her shoulder squashing against mine and her back-hair tickling my nose, a perfectly loony impulse came sweeping over me to kiss her.

“No, really?” I croaked.

“Have you forgotten?”

She lifted the old onion and her eyes looked straight into mine. I could feel myself skidding. I shut my eyes. And then from the doorway there spoke the most beautiful voice I had ever heard in my life.

“Give me that cat!”

I opened my eyes. There was good old Aunt Jane, that queen of her sex, standing before

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