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"THE devil!" Paul Garnett exclaimed as he re-read his note; and the dry old gentleman who was simply at this time his only neighbour in the quiet restaurant they both frequented, remarked with a smile: "You don't appear particularly annoyed at meeting him." Garnett delivered the smile. "I don't know why I apostrophized him, for he's not in the least present—except inasmuch as he might prove to be at the bottom of anything unexpected." The old gentleman who, like Garnett, was an American, and spoke in the thin rarefied voice which seems best fitted to emit sententious truths, twisted his lean neck toward the younger man and cackled out shrewdly: "Ah, it's generally a female who is at the bottom of the unexpected. Not," he added, leaning forward with deliberation to choose a tooth-pick, "that that precludes the devil's being there too."
