"
"Go on," he said, leaning back and closing his eyes. "You
named the letter for your mother's maid--I mean for the malted
milk. Although you have not yet stated the name you chose; I
never heard of any one named Milk, and as to the other, while I
have known some rather thoroughly malted people--however, let
that go."
"Valentine's tablets," I said. "Of Course, you understand,"
I said, bending forward, "there was no such Person. I made him
up. The Harold was made up too--Harold Valentine."
"I see. Not clearly, perhaps, but I have a gleam of
intellagence."
"But, after all, there was such a person. That's clear,
isn't it? And now he considers that we are engaged, and--and he
insists on marrying me."
"That," he said, "is realy easy to understand. I don't
blame him at all. He is clearly a person of diszernment."
"Of course," I said bitterly, "you would be on _his_ side.
Every one is."
"But the point is this," he went on. "If you made him up
out of the whole cloth, as it were, and there was no such
Person, how can there be such a Person? I am merely asking to
get it all clear in my head.
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