He didn't blush when I looked him in the eye, but smiled a tired smile and said he reckoned I was the chap he'd been sent to meet.

There was no welcome in his voice, I noticed.

I looked him over critically.
"Are you the gentleman with the alliterative cognomen ?" I asked him airily, hoping he would be puzzled.
He was not, evidently.

"Perry Potter?
He's at the ranch." He was damnably tolerant, and I said nothing.

I hate to make the same sort of fool of myself twice.