ay he's going to behave...." I
turned to Adele. "Was his manner very bad at the time?"

"He seemed more rattled than anything else. He was clearly afraid to
interfere. Jill and I got them apart, as I told you. He got very red in
the face, but beyond muttering with his teeth clenched, he never said a
word."

"Must have gone straight home and got it off his chest," said Jonah. "I
expect he's awfully proud of that letter, if the truth were known."

"Well, don't let's dwell on it," said Berry, regarding the oysters which
had been set before him. "After dinner will do. You hardly ever go down
with typhoid within six hours." He turned to Adele. "Bet you I've got
more strepsicocci than you have," he added pleasantly.

"Shut up," said Daphne. "Adele dear, d'you like oysters? Because, don't
you eat them if you don't."

"No, don't," said Berry. "If you don't, whatever you do, don't. And
whatever you don't, I will."

Adele looked at him with a mischievous smile.

"I couldn't bear," she said, "to have your blood on my head."

Then she glanced gratefully at Daphne and picked up a fork.

Mr. Herbert Bason had arisen out of the cloud of War. The time had
produced the man. The storm had burst just in the nick of time to save
the drooping theatrical interests which he controlled, and the fruit
which these had borne steadily for the best part of five long years had
been truly phenomenal. A patriot to the backbone, the bewildered
proprietor obtained absolute exemption from the Tribunal, turned the
first six rows of all his pits into stalls, and bought War Loan with
both hands. It was after the second air-raid upon London that he decided
to take a house in the country.... Less than a year ago he had disposed
of his music-halls and had settled near Bilberry for good.

"By the way," said Daphne, "did I tell you? The laundry's struck."

"Thank you," said her husband, "for that phrase."

"Don't mention it," said my sister. "But I thought you'd like to know.
Heaven knows when they'll go back, so I should go easy with your stiff
collars and shirts."

"What, have the saws stopped working?" said Berry. "I can't bear it."

"What about my trousers?" said I. "I've only one clean pair left."

Daphne shrugged her white shoulders.

"What about my tablecloths?" she replied.

Berry addressed himself to Adele.

"We live in pleasant times, do not we? Almost a golden age. I wonder
what the trouble is now. Probably some absent-minded _bla