"Have you met many women of personality?"
"So I have; you could feel it as if they were mesmerising you, you had to do anything they told you. But they'd none of them votes."
The arrival of tea turned our thoughts from politics, and at the end of my second cup I advanced delicately towards the purpose of my call.
"You like plain speaking, don't you, Sylvia?" I began.
"Well, you're not treating the Seraph fairly."
I leant back and watched her raising her little dark eyebrows in amused surprise.
"I came on my own blundering initiative," I said. "I don't know what the trouble's about."
Sylvia was delighted. "If a man doesn't think highly of women I do like to hear him say so!"
"As a matter of fact I'm not concerned to apportion blame to either of you. You're both of you abnormal and irrational; as likely as not you're both of you wrong. I wanted to tell you something about the Seraph you may not have heard before."
In a dozen sentences I told her of my first meeting with him in Morocco.
"Thanks to you," I said, "he's pretty well got over it. Remember that I saw him then, and you didn't; so believe me when I tell you he was suffering from what the novelists call a 'broken heart.' He won't get over it a second time."
"You're sure it was broken?" she asked dispassionately. "Um. It sounds to me like a dent; press the other side, the dent comes out."
I produced a cigarette case, and flew a distress signal for permission.
"I should like you to be serious about this," I said.
I searched vainly for matches, and eventually had to use one of my own.
Sylvia dealt with the proposition in a series of short sentences punctuated by grave nods.
"Gratifying. If true. Seems improbable. Irrelevant, anyway. Unless I happen to be in love with him."
"I was not born yesterday," I reminded her. "Or the day before."
"I mean, you're so deliciously young. Do you usually go about talking to girls as you've been talking to me?"
I buttoned up my coat, preparatory to leaving. "Being a friend of you both," I said, "if a word of advice----"
"Well, if your generosity's greater than your pride, you can apologise to him: if your pride's greater than your generosity, waive the apology and sink the past. I've a fair idea what the quarrel's about," I added.