"Two," he replied, and then corrected himself, "No,
I have only one."

"Is the other one dead?"

"I never had more than one."

"Ten years married and only one child," said she.
"Why, man dear, you're not a married man. What
were you doing at all, at all! I wouldn't like to be tell-
ing you the children I have living and dead. But what
I say is that married or not you're a bachelor man. I
knew it the minute I looked at you. What sort of a
woman is herself?"

"She's a thin sort of woman," cried the Philosopher,
biting into his cake.

"Is she now?"

"And," the Philosopher continued, "the reason I
talked to you is because you are a fat woman."

"I am not fat," was her angry response.

"You are fat," insisted the Philosopher, "and that's
the reason I like you."

"Oh, if you mean it that way . . ." she chuckled.