nannas, and the Mater needn't go to Kubelik then, because she hates all decent music worse than I do. Better come, Adela. Pantomime is awfully amusin', and you'll like Clapham if you haven't met him—chap, you know, that married poor little Bridgit Brady."
"Thanks," said the young madam, "but I think I prefer Busoni."
The heir to the barony was rather concerned by the tone of Miss Insolence.
"You aren't rattled, are you, Adela?" said he. "I've made a horrid mess of it, and I'm to blame and all that, but you can't go back on your word with kids, can you? If you come I'm sure you'll like it, and that little Marge is a nailer, and she is only five."
The long-lashed orb from beneath the charming mutch showed very cold and blue.
"Thanks, but I think I prefer Busoni. Come, Fritz."
"Well, I'm sorry," said the penitent heir; and the rather tight hobble and the charming mutch and the pure-bred Himalayan dust spaniel moved round the corner of Hamilton Place in review order.
Humbled and undone, the heir to the barony sauntered up the street, past the Cavalry, past the Savile and past the Bath, until, broken in spirit he stayed his course before the chocolate shop of B. Venoist.
"She's as cross as two sticks," sighed the heir to the
