I am in love--infernally in love!" "Oh, you'll write the better poetry," said I, by way of consolation.
He ruffled his hair with his hand and smoked furiously.

George Featherly, standing with his back to the mantelpiece, smiled unkindly.
"If it's the old affair," said he, "you may as well throw it up, Bert.
She's leaving Paris tomorrow." "I know that," snapped Bertram.
"Not that it would make any difference if she stayed," pursued the relentless George.

"She flies higher than the paper trade, my boy!" "Hang her!" said Bertram.
"It would make it more interesting for me," I ventured to observe, "if I knew who you were talking about." "Antoinette Mauban," said George.
"De Mauban," growled Bertram.
"Oho!" said I, passing by the question of the `de'.

"You don't mean to say, Bert-- ?" "Can't you let me alone ?" "Where's she going to ?" I asked, for the lady was something of a celebrity.
George jingled his money, smiled cruelly at poor Bertram, and answered pleasantly: "Nobody knows.

By the way, Bert, I met a great man at her house the other night--at least, about a month ago.