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"This e"

"My son is notto be At eleven o'clock this nett stared

"Are you mad?"

"Well, I'm not any too well pleased, I'm bound to say," admitted Mr Mortiirl irl?"

"Have been for years I' around and look a lot, but never tell their love"

"Who is this girl who has entrapped my son?"

"I've always been one of those men who"

"Mr Mortimer! With your perranted In fact, ill not discuss you at all You come to me with this absurd story"

"Not absurd Honest fact I had it froh I'ossips with servants, I'irl uided son wishes to uided," said Mr Mortiht sirl, you know We were children together, and I've loved her for years Ten years at least But you kno it is--soht I saw an opening in the summer of nineteen-twelve, but it blew over I'reat line of talk I'nett impatiently, "postpone this essay in psycho-analysis to so to hear the nairl my son wishes to marry"

"Haven't I told you?" said Mr Mortimer, surprised "That's odd I haven't! It's funny how one doesn't do the things one thinks one does I'm the sort of man"

"What is her nahter of Mr Rufus Bennett? The red-haired girl I met at lunch one day at your father's house?"

"That's it You're a great guesser I think you ought to stop the thing"

"I intend to"

"Fine!"