A Damsel in Distress

George listened to this address in bewilderment. Maud in love with

him! It sounded incredible. That he should love her after their one

meeting was a different thing altogether. That was perfectly

natural and in order. But that he should have had the incredible

luck to win her affection. The thing struck him as grotesque and

ridiculous.

"In love with me?" he cried. "What on earth do you mean?"

Reggie's bewilderment equalled his own.

"Well, dash it all, old top, it surely isn't news to you? She must

have told you. Why, she told me!"

"Told you? Am I going mad?"

"Absolutely! I mean absolutely not! Look here." Reggie hesitated.

The subject was delicate. But, once started, it might as well be

proceeded with to some conclusion. A fellow couldn't go on talking

about his iron-shots after this just as if nothing had happened.

This was the time for the laying down of cards, the opening of

hearts. "I say, you know," he went on, feeling his way, "you'll

probably think it deuced rummy of me talking like this. Perfect

stranger and what not. Don't even know each other's names."

"Mine's Bevan, if that'll be any help."

"Thanks very much, old chap. Great help! Mine's Byng. Reggie Byng.

Well, as we're all pals here and the meeting's tiled and so forth,

I'll start by saying that the mater is most deucedly set on my

marrying Lady Maud. Been pals all our lives, you know. Children

together, and all that sort of rot. Now there's nobody I think a

more corking sportsman than Maud, if you know what I mean,

but--this is where the catch comes in--I'm most frightfully in love

with somebody else. Hopeless, and all that sort of thing, but

still there it is. And all the while the mater behind me with a

bradawl, sicking me on to propose to Maud who wouldn't have me if I

were the only fellow on earth. You can't imagine, my dear old chap,

what a relief it was to both of us when she told me the other day

that she was in love with you, and wouldn't dream of looking at

anybody else. I tell you, I went singing about the place."

George felt inclined to imitate his excellent example. A burst of

song was the only adequate expression of the mood of heavenly

happiness which this young man's revelations had brought upon him.

The whole world seemed different. Wings seemed to sprout from

Reggie's shapely shoulders. The air was filled with soft music.

Even the wallpaper seemed moderately attractive.

He mixed himself a second whisky and soda. It was the next best

thing to singing.