Giới thiệu truyện
I THIRD PERSON SINGULAR
I met him when I was in town at a party, where he and I were about the only grown-ups; he took a good deal of trouble over the youngsters, doing conjuring tricks to amuse them, and singing songs at the pianoforte that made them laugh. Later in the evening, when some of the kids had been fetched, he and I became friendly, and we had a most interesting chat. He agreed with my views regarding the Australian team of the previous summer; he was in full sympathy concerning the difficulty of making one pair of white gloves do for two evenings. I asked for his name and address.
“Don't think I have a card to spare, old chap,” he said, in his easy way. “Daresay we shall meet again.”
“I'd awfully like to make sure of it,” I said. “My mother may want you to run down to our place.”
“That's a different matter. Here's a pencil; write it on something. Or allow me. I'm coming back here at ten,” he went on. “You won't be gone before that, I hope?”
“I must,” I replied. “My governess will call at half-past nine to take me home.”
“What an existence we men about town do live, to be sure. Always hurrying from one place to another.”
“If my mother writes to you, Mr. Car
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