“Why?” she demanded.
“Same as the Queen of Sheba,” said Herrick hastily. “You know. She thought she knew how to live; but when she saw Solomon’s idea of comfort——”
“Tell her,” said Eleanor Cloke.
“I am,” said Herrick. “Give me a chance. . . . Well, what really broke the Queen’s heart was the poisonous reflection that for the rest of her life the King of Sheba would be saying, ‘My dear, why can’t we have so-and-so? Solomon has.’ ”
His hostess leaned forward, with parted lips.
“D’you mean that you’re . . .”
David Herrick swallowed.
“Don’t rush him,” said Crispin Willoughby. “The roof of his mouth’s dry.” He turned to his faltering guest. “Moisten the lips, old bean, and let it come with the breath.”
“I mean,” said Herrick desperately, “that we’re—we’re thinkin’ of joinin’ up.”
His hostess sighed contentedly.