French Riviera.
Another minute, and we were out in the great open spaces, she cooing a
bit about the scenery, and self replying, "Oh, rather, quite," and
wondering how best to approach the matter in hand.

-10-

How different it all would have been, I could not but reflect, if this
girl had been the sort of girl one chirrups cheerily to over the
telephone and takes for spins in the old two-seater. In that case, I
would simply have said, "Listen," and she would have said, "What?" and I
would have said, "You know Gussie Fink-Nottle," and she would have said,
"Yes," and I would have said, "He loves you," and she would have said
either, "What, that mutt? Well, thank heaven for one good laugh today,"
or else, in more passionate vein, "Hot dog! Tell me more."

I mean to say, in either event the whole thing over and done with in
under a minute.

But with the Bassett something less snappy and a good deal more glutinous
was obviously indicated. What with all this daylight-saving stuff, we had
hit the great open spaces at a moment when twilight had not yet begun to
cheese it in favour of the shades of night. There was a fag-end of sunset
still functioning. Stars were beginning to peep out, bats were fooling
round, the garden was full of the aroma of those niffy white flowers
which only start to put in their heavy work at the end of the day--in
short, the glimmering landscape was fading on the sight and all the air
held a solemn stillness, and it was plain that this was having the worst
effect on her. Her eyes were enlarged, and her whole map a good deal too
suggestive of the soul's awakening for comfort.

Her aspect was that of a girl who was expecting something fairly fruity
from Bertram.

In these circs., conversation inevitably flagged a bit. I am never at my
best when the situation seems to call for a certain soupiness, and I've
heard other members of the Drones say the same thing about themselves. I
remember Pongo Twistleton telling me that he was out in a gondola with a
girl by moonlight once, and the only time he spoke was to tell her that
old story about the chap who was so good at swimming that they made him a
traffic cop in Venice.

Fell rather flat, he assured me, and it wasn't much later when the girl
said she thought it was getting a little chilly and how about pushing
back to the hotel.

So now, as I say, the talk rather hung fire. It had been all very well
for me to promise Gussie that I would cut