Anthony Hope

“ Dolly kissed the kitten and went on, "About you and Dulcie Mildmay."
"That's very ancient history," said I, rather disgusted.
"You admit it is history, though?"
"History is what women have agreed to repeat, Lady Mickleham."
"Oh, if you're going to take it like that! I thought we were friends—and——"
"There is no greater mark of friendship," I observed, "than a complete absence of interest in one's doings."
"An absence of interest?" smiled Dolly, re-tying the kitten's bow in a meditative way.
"It makes the heart grow fonder (not, of course, that that's always desirable) . ”

“ Dolly gave the kitten milk; I pulled its tail. We had become quite thoughtful.
"I always tell the truth now, except to the Dowager," said Dolly presently.
"It doesn't do to be quixotic," I agreed. "Telling the truth to people who misunderstand you is really promoting falsehood, isn't it?"
"That's rather a good idea," said Dolly. "And if you——"
"Adapt?"
"Yes—why, then they get it just right, don't they? You think of quite sensible things sometimes, Mr. Carter."
"Often when I'm not with you," said I.
"And I suppose you adapted in telling me about Dulcie Mildmay?" ”

“ Dolly put the kitten down on the floor with quite a bump. I took my hat.
"Your story," said I, as I brushed my hat, "hasn't come to much, Lady Mickleham."
Dolly was not put out; nay, she picked up the kitten again and started rubbing its fur the wrong way.
"When yon were a child, Mr. Carter——" she began.
"Dear, dear!" I murmured, stroking the crown of my head.
"Did you use to tell the truth?"
I put my hat back on the table. The conversation began to interest me.
"You may have noticed," said I, "that I am a man of method!"
"You do call regularly," Dolly agreed. ”