ch for most men. And not half a bottle; I've had
half-bottles heaps of times at tete-a-tete dinners. It always means
indecision, which is a beastly thing in anyone, and especially in a man.
It's insulting, for one thing.... Oh, Peter, do look at that girl over
there. Do you suppose she has anything on underneath? I suppose I
couldn't ask her, but you might, you know, if you put on that smile of
yours. Do walk over, beg her pardon, and say very nicely: 'Excuse me, but
I'm a chaplain, and it's my business to know these things. I see you've
no stays on, but have you a bathing costume?'"

"Julie, do be quiet; someone will hear you. You must remember we're in
England, and that you're talking English."

"I don't care a damn if they do, Peter! Oh, here's the champagne, at any
rate. Oh, and some soup. Well, that's something."

"I've got the fish coming," said the girl, "if you can be ready at once."

Julie seized her spoon. "I suppose I mustn't drink it?" she said. "I
don't see why I shouldn't, as a matter of fact, but it might reflect on
you, Peter, and you're looking so immaculate to-night. By the way, you've
never had that manicure. Do send a note for the girl. I'd hide in the
bathroom. I'd love to hear you. Peter, if I only thought you would do it,
I'd like it better than the play. What is the play, by the way? _Zigzag?_
Oh, _Zigzag_" (She mimicked in a French accent.) "Well, it will be all
too sadly true if I leave you to that bottle of fizz all by yourself.
Give me another glass, please."

"What about you?" demanded Peter. "If you're like this now, Heaven knows
what you'll be by the time you've had half of this."

"Peter, you're an ignoramus. Girls like me never take too much. We began
early for one thing, and we're used to it. For another, the more a girl
talks, the soberer she is. She talks because she's thinking, and because
she doesn't want the man to talk. Now, if you talked to-night, I don't
know what you might not say. You'd probably be enormously sentimental,
and I hate sentimental people. I do, really. Sentiment is wishy-washy,
isn't it? I always associate it with comedians on the stage. Look over
there. Do you see that girl in the big droopy hat and the thin hands?
And the boy--one must say 'boy,' I suppose? He's a little fat and
slightly bald, and he's got three pips up, and has had them for a long
time. Well, look at them. He's searching her eyes, he is, Peter, really.
That's how it's done: you just watch