Herrick cleared his throat.
“Nell,” he said, “I give you the verb ‘to love.’ Je t’aime, tu m’aimes, il s’aime, mais nous aimons Madge tous les trois.”
He raised his glass.
“ ‘Il s’aime’?” said Crispin. “Put down that port.”
“We’d better include him,” said Eleanor. “Besides, he’s—he’s rather a dear.”
She blew her host a kiss, and the toast was honoured.
“A little more of this,” said Mrs. Willoughby, “and I shall break down.”
“I—I’m sure I should have seized her,” said Crispin brokenly.
“Well, now,” said Herrick, squeezing the end of a cigar, “what’s the first thing to do?”
“Broadcast your folly,” said Crispin. “Put a notice in The Times, announcing her unaccountable determination to become your wife. If I were you I should kill two birds with one rock and add that you won’t be responsible for her debts. You never know.”