“Well, we’re going.”
“You wouldn’t care for it, Bundle. You wouldn’t really.”
“You’re going to take me to the Seven Dials Club and nowhere else, Bill. And I should like to know why you are so unwilling?”
“I? Unwilling?”
“Painfully so. What’s the guilty secret?”
“Guilty secret?”
“Don’t keep repeating what I say. You do it to give yourself time.”
“I don’t,” said Bill indignantly. “It’s only—”
“Well? I know there’s something. You never can conceal anything.”
“I’ve got nothing to conceal. It’s only—”
“Well?”
“It’s a long story—You see, I took Babe St. Maur there one night—”
“Oh! Babe St. Maur again.”
“Why not?”
“I didn’t know it was about her—” said Bundle, stifling a yawn.
“As I say, I took Babe there. She rather fancied a lobster. I had a lobster under my arm—”
The story went on—When the lobster had been finally dismembered in a struggle between Bill and a fellow who was a rank outsider. Bundle brought her attention back to him.