"It is, Thomas. The boat-race is to-morrow."
"Well, I can change afterwards. You don't expect me to wear anything like that?" he said, pointing to Simpson.
"Don't change," said Archie. "Both go as you are. Mick and Mack, the Comedy Duo. Simpson does the talking while Thomas falls over the pews."
Simpson collected his breakfast and sat down next to Myra.
"Am I all right?" he asked her doubtfully.
"Your tie's up at the back of your neck," I said.
"Because if Dahlia would prefer it," he went on, ignoring me, "I could easily wear a plain dark tweed."
"You're beautiful, Samuel," said Myra. "I hope you'll look as nice at my wedding."
"You don't think I shall be mistaken for the father?" he asked anxiously.
"By Peter? Well, that is just possible. Perhaps if——"