He disappeared rather sheepishly in the direction of the dining-room.
"Now, Samuel," said Myra gently.
"Now what, Myra?"
"It's your turn. If you have a headache, tell us her name."
"My dear Myra, I want to ski to-day. Where shall we go? Let's go to the old slopes and practise the Christiania Turn."
"What you want to practise is the ordinary Hampstead Straight," I said. "A medium performance of yours yesterday, Samuel."
"But, my dear old chap," he said eagerly, "I told you it was the fault of my skis. They would stick to the snow. Oh, I say," he added, "that reminds me. I must go and buy some wax for them."
He dashed off. I looked at Myra ... and sighed.
"The nail-man won't be long," said Archie to Dahlia, on his return. "I'm to call for them in a quarter of an hour."
"Can't you wear some other boots, Dahlia, or your bedroom slippers or something? It's half-past eleven. We really must get off soon."