“Wot?” said the porter, staring.
“This linoleum.”
The porter eyed Fulke with a supreme contempt.
“Oh, less of it,” he said. “Ten feet o’ secon’-’and lino in a six-’undred-quid flat. An’ you ask if it goes. Why, it ain’t worth——”
“I happen to know something about linoleum,” lied Fulke furiously. “Why, if I told the Stores to put a new piece down, they’d charge me about ten pounds.”
“Would they, though?” said the porter. “They must ’ave got your number.”
There was an unpleasant silence.
At length—
“I—I take it the bath works all right,” said George desperately.
“It don’t leak,” said the porter, “if that’s wot you mean.”