"In the meantime--" "I will get up a little dinner," proceeded the Major, with a burst of enthusiasm.

"You and I and Lady Clarinda.

Our young prima donna shall come in the evening, and sing to us.

Suppose we draw out the _menu ?_ My sweet friend, what is your favorite autumn soup ?" "In the meantime," I persisted, "to return to what we were speaking of just now--" The Major's smile vanished; the Major's hand dropped the pen destined to immortalize the name of my favorite autumn soup.
"_Must_ we return to that ?" he asked, piteously.
"Only for a moment," I said.
"You remind me," pursued Major Fitz-David, shaking his head sadly, "of another charming friend of mine--a French friend--Madame Mirliflore.

You are a person of prodigious tenacity of purpose.