I have yet to learn that to some women, the presence of a man--not _the_ man, but _a_ man--any man--is what warm rain is to flowers athirst.

I am still marveling at this metamorphosis, when the door again opens, and another guest is announced--an old man, as great a stranger to us as is the rest of the neighborhood, but of whom we quickly discover that he is deadly, deadly deaf.

For five minutes, I bawl at him a series of remarks, each and all of which he misunderstands.

He does it so invariably, that I come at length to the conclusion that he is doing it on purpose, and stop talking in a huff.
Then Barbara takes her turn--Barbara can always make deaf people hear better than I do, though she does not speak to them nearly so loud, and I rest on my oars.

Owing to my position between the two couples, I can hear what is passing between Algy and Mrs.Huntley.
To tell the truth, I do not take much pains to avoid hearing it, for surely they can have no secrets.