‘I heard a sound of whispering and suppressed laughter as the girls held their consultation, and then the experiment began in silence, broken only by the rustle of feminine garments. Twelve times in succession I felt a gentle touch upon my lips, and never once did I fail to take advantage of it. I gave six decisions for face-powder and six against, and was just thinking how I would spend the hundred and ten pounds when I heard a roar of laughter. I tore off the bandage and asked what was the matter. ‘As soon as they could speak they told me. The only person that I had kissed on all twelve occasions was my own sister. Sometimes she had touched my lips with her cheek, on which there was face-powder, and sometimes with the back of her hand, on which there was none. And nine times I had been mistaken in my diagnosis. The treasurer of the charitable fund—she was the pretty girl of whom I have spoken—collected the money. Then they all resumed their merriment, and no excuse for my mistakes was ever heard. ‘All things considered, I think I have a fair claim for a consolation prize.’ ‘The club does not give prizes of that description,’ said the chairman. ‘But I can offer you our sympathy, which is more valuable than mere money. I will now call upon Mr Quillian.’ Mr Quillian adjusted his pince-nez. ‘I will ask the chairman’s permission to argue that the whole of this competition is null and void, and that the prize should be added to that for the next competition.’ ‘I will hear you, Mr Quillian, but you must be brief and to the point. You are not in court now, you know.’ ‘If you please, I submit that a kiss has a psychical as well as a physical side, and that kisses for competition purposes are so deficient on the psychical or emotional side that they cannot be considered as kisses in the ordinary sense of the word.’ ‘I do not admit that. Possibly the competition kiss does not come up to the standard demanded by a voluptuary like my learned friend, but it is still a kiss. If he kissed this match-box, it would be a kiss and could not be described otherwise, although presumably the emotional side would be absent. Enough of these legal quibbles. I will now ask Mr Matthews if he has been as successful in the part of Lothario as he invariably is in that of Lucullus.’ Mr Matthews, the club epicure, said that a decent upbringing had caused him to fail in a shameful enterprise, and gave his account of it. He advertised in the name of Mrs Elsmere Twiss, giving an accommodation address, for a companion to an elderly lady. The salary offered was magnificent, and it was intimated that accomplishments would be less valued than youthful charm and an affectionate nature. Applicants were to enclose photographs.