"I have nothing against Miss Aylwyn——" I went on.
"Except the way she does her hair."
"—but she doesn't strike me as being the essential Rabbit. We cannot admit her to the—er—fold."
"The covey," suggested Myra.
"The warren. Anyhow, she—— Simpson, for goodness' sake stop fooling about with your bearded friend and tell us what you think of it all."
We were finishing lunch in the lee of a little chalet, high above the hotel, and Simpson had picked up an acquaintance with a goat, which he was apparently trying to conciliate with a piece of chocolate. The goat, however, seemed to want a piece of Simpson.
"My dear old chap, he won't go away. Here—shoo! shoo! I wish I knew what his name was."
"Ernest," said Myra.
"I can't think why you ever got into such a hirsute set, Simpson. He probably wants your compass. Give it to him and let him withdraw."
Ernest, having decided that Simpson was not worth knowing, withdrew, and we resumed our conversation.