“John doesn’t think so,” I remarked. “He’s anxious to keep them apart.”

“Oh, John!”

Something in her tone fired me, and I blurted out:

“Old John’s an awfully good sort.”

She studied me curiously for a minute or two, and then said, to my great surprise:

“You are loyal to your friend. I like you for that.”

“Aren’t you my friend too?”

“I am a very bad friend.”

“Why do you say that?”

“Because it is true. I am charming to my friends one day, and forget all about them the next.”