Maxwell’s Flame
“‘Why, Max,’ she did her Southern Belle to perfection, ‘Ah declare, you’ve come to escort me tuh the lecture.’ ‘Sod the lecture!’ Maxwell brushed past her and slammed the door.
‘Oh well,’ sighed Sally. ‘Looks like I’m not going to the ball after all.’ ‘Cheer up.’ Maxwell had flung his heavy carcass into the girl’s chair. ‘Some day your prince will come.’ ‘Yes.’ She looked him up and down. ‘Some day. Can I rustle you up a coffee?’ ‘You can.’ He sat fuming, his grey whiskers standing even more on end than usual. ‘White. Three sugars.’ ‘Three?’ She fiddled with the kettle on the bedside cabinet. ‘Max, you’re regressing. That’s nursery food. You’ll be angling for spotted dick next.’ ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here,’ Maxwell said, wiping his hands down his face as though to wipe away his features.
‘Not for my scintillating company, then?’ Sally professed. ‘Or the opportunity to apologize for throwing me out of your room so unceremoniously no more than half an hour ago?
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