"Let's talk, instead," she said, and she made me coffee in the library, with one of those French pots that gurgle conveniently when you don't exactly know what to say. That pot did a heap of gurgling before we began to talk. When she spoke, what she said almost took me off my chair.
"Percy, have you seen the show at the Gaiety?" she asked.
I had seen it more than once, and I said so.
"They tell me there's a song there--" she went on.
"There are a lot of songs," said I.
"There's one in particular."
There wasn't any use in fencing, so I answered: "You mean the 'Jo-Jo' song.
It's a silly little ditty, and it's sung by--"
"A girl named Hartopp-Maisie Hartopp." She was speaking as if she were trying to remember where she'd heard the name.
Of course, me for the clumsy speech.
"She's a winner," I cut in.
She got up at that, and walked over to the fireplace. "She seems to be," she said, picking at a bit of bronze, a wedding present, I think.
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