‘Why won’t you?’
‘He’ll be back before we settle it. Look here! I’ve a shilling under my hand. Heads or tails, and the loser has to be rude. Do you agree?’
‘Very well.’
‘Your call.’
‘Heads.’
‘It’s tails.’
‘Oh goodness!’
‘You’ve got to be rude. Now mind you are. Here he comes.’
The waiter had come up the room bearing the pride of the hotel, the grand green Stilton with the beautiful autumn leaf heart shading away to rich plum-coloured cavities. He placed it on the table with a solemn air.
‘It’s a beautiful Stilton,’ Frank remarked.