It is my misfortune not to be so distinguished in fame or beauty that my name is known by all; so I need not tell you my name perhaps, only assuring you that I am at your service if I may be useful." "Your name!" she again demanded.
I told her the first one that came to my lips--I do not remember what.
It did not deceive her for a moment.
"Of course that is not your name," she said; "because it does not fit you.

You have me still at disadvantage." "And me, Madam?
You are taking me miles out of my way.

How can I help you?
Do you perhaps wish to hunt mushrooms in the Georgetown woods when morning comes?
I wish that I might join you, but I fear--" "You mock me," she retorted.

"Very good.

Let me tell you it was not your personal charm which attracted me when I saw you on the pavement! `Twas because you were the only man in sight." I bowed my thanks.