human
They came here to win pots, he said scornfully.
gpt
The man who marries them is sure of a hundred or more _objets d’art_—to say nothing of virtue—all bought in the bazaar for one franc fifty. That ought to console him—
human
Is he going to marry them both?
gpt
Two go to a pattern, I suppose. I shouldn’t know one from the other in the dark.
human
But you’d have to know the one you married!
gpt
Ah, so I should! Why don’t you write a story about it: ’The Bride Who Wasn’t,’ or something of that sort? Kipling would do it finely.
human
Well, but I’m not Kipling—and here’s Mr. Rivers. Why, of course, we won the doubles together. And is it poor little me they want?—Oh, dear!