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"Why, Rolls!" Cobby cried, "this is love."

"I wish she'd returned it, then. I shouldn't have been off bussing those particular lips. But no go: white mans is stink. Maybe for a cousin she'd feel different, Cobby: for they say that some cousins are more akin in nature than brother and sister."

"Really? People say that of cousins? I am surprised, because it happens to be true—scientifically known. But all that does not allure me, Rolls. You see that I have other pre-occupations than the lips of ladies."

To which Rolls, sipping his peach-brandy, confidently answered: "You never felt the sun, old man: wait till you do, before you boast. Here the sun is a hearsay, as toothache is to one who hasn't it; but the sun's a Reality, look, and no fun. You've read of the rage of the vegetation of African forests: well, the same with Master Cupid; a dog in the sun bites the boy, and the boy goes dog-mad."

"Oh, it is all a question of mental pose and habit," Cobby remarked with a pout. "The mind cannot think of two things at the same time——"