Makes it kind of hopeless, what?"
George, in his new-born happiness, found a pleasure in encouraging
a less lucky mortal.
"Not a bit. What you ought to do is to--"
"Yes?" said Reggie eagerly.
George shook his head.
"No, I don't know," he said.
"Nor do I, dash it!" said Reggie.
George pondered.
"It seems to me it's purely a question of luck. Either you're lucky
or you're not. Look at me, for instance. What is there about me to
make a wonderful girl love me?"
"Nothing! I see what you mean. At least, what I mean to say is--"
"No. You were right the first time. It's all a question of luck.
There's nothing anyone can do."
"I hang about a good deal and get in her way," said Reggie. "She's
always tripping over me. I thought that might help a bit."
"It might, of course."
"But on the other hand, when we do meet, I can't think of anything
to say."
"That's bad."
"Deuced funny thing. I'm not what you'd call a silent sort of
chappie by nature. But, when I'm with her--I don't know. It's
rum!" He drained his glass and rose. "Well, I suppose I may as well
be staggering. Don't get up. Have another game one of these days,
what?"
"Splendid.
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