None the less, I saw that she was terrafied. The family Kitten, to speak
in allegory, had become a Lion and showed its clause.

When she had gone out I tried to think of some one to hang a love affair
to. But there seemed to be nobody. They knew perfectly well that the
dancing master had one eye and three children, and that the clergyman at
school was elderly, with two wives. One dead.

I searched my Past, but it was blameless. It was empty and bare, and
as I looked back and saw how little there had been in it but imbibing
wisdom and playing basket-ball and tennis, and typhoid fever when I
was fourteen and almost having to have my head shaved, a great wave of
bitterness agatated me.

"Never again," I observed to myself with firmness. "Never again, If I
have to invent a member of the Other Sex."

At that time, however, owing to the appearance of Hannah with a mending
basket, I got no further than his name.

It was Harold. I decided to have him dark, with a very small black
mustache, and Passionate eyes. I felt, too, that he would be jealous.
The eyes would be of the smouldering type, showing the green-eyed
monster beneath.

I was very much cheered up. At least they could not ignore me any more,
and I felt that they would see the point. If I was old enough to have
a lover--especialy a jealous one with the aformentioned eyes--I was old
enough to have the necks of my frocks cut out.