"I don't feel fearfully lucky," he said lightly.
"Roo-coo-coo-coo," came again.

And Anne murmured, "You mean it's lonely." "Oh, it isn't the loneliness I care about," said Reginald, and he stumped his cigarette savagely on the green ash-tray.

"I could stand any amount of it, used to like it even.

It's the idea of--" Suddenly, to his horror, he felt himself blushing.
"Roo-coo-coo-coo! Roo-coo-coo-coo!" Anne jumped up.

"Come and say good-bye to my doves," she said.