I sincerely hope you're not too fastidious for tin cups ?" "A tin cup," said Philip with engaging candor, "has always been a secret ambition of mine.

I once acquired one at somebody's spring hut--er--circumstances compelled me to relinquish it.

It was really a very nice cup too and very new and shiny.

Since then, until now, my life, alas! has been tin-cupless." Diane carved the smoking fish in ominous silence.
"Do you know," she said at length, "I've felt once or twice that your anecdotes are too apt and--er--sparkling to be overburdened with truth.
Your mechanician, for instance--" Philip laughed and reddened.

The mechanician, as a desperate means of prolonging conversation, had served his purpose somewhat disastrously.
"Hum!" said he lamely.
"I shan't forget that mechanician!" said Diane decidedly.
"This now," vowed Philip uncomfortably, "is a _real_ fish!" Diane laughed, a soft clear laugh that to Philip's prejudiced ears had more of music in it than the murmur of the river or the clear, sweet piping of the woodland birds.
"It is," she agreed readily.