"Well, what crimes have you been committing the past few weeks?"
A wandering minstrel was harping "Love's Sweet Dream" outside the
public-house below. I shut the window, hastily.
"Nothing so bad as that," said I. "He ought to be hung and his
wild harp hung behind him."
"You are developing nerves," said Judith. "Is it a guilty
conscience?" She laughed. "You are hiding something from me.
I've been aware of it all the time."
"Indeed? How?"
"By the sixth sense of woman!"
Confound the sixth sense of woman! I suppose it has been
developed like a cat's whiskers to supply the deficiency of a
natural scent. Also, like the whiskers, it is obtrusive, and a
matter for much irritatingly complacent pride. Judith regarded
me with a mock magisterial air, and I was put into the dock at
once.
"Something has happened," I said, desperately. "A female woman
has come and taken up her residence at 26 Lingfield Terrace. A
few weeks ago she ate with her fingers and believed the earth was
flat. I found her in the Victoria Embankment Gardens beneath the
terrace of the National Liberal Club, and now she lives on
chocolate creams and the 'Child's Guide to Knowledge.
Pages:
120
121
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144