With an effort my sister recovered herself and took one with a shaking hand. Loyally Jill followed her example, and, with tears running down her cheeks, induced a glutinous slab to quit the silver, to which it clung desperately.
I declined the delicacy.
With compressed lips the servant offered it to my brother-in-law.
Berry shook his head.
"Mother wouldn't like me to," he said. "But I can see it's very tasty." He turned to his wife. "What a wonderful thing perfume is! You know, the smell of burnt fat always makes me think of the Edgware Road at dusk."
"Hush," said I, consulting the menu. "De mortuis. Those were banana fritters. That slimy crust enshrined the remains of a once succulent fruit."
"What?" said Berry. "Like beans in amber? How very touching! I suppose undertakers are easier than cooks. Never mind. It's much cheaper. I shan't want to be reminded of food for several days now." He looked across the table to Daphne. "After what I've just seen, I feel I can give the savoury a miss. Do you agree, darling? Or has the fritter acted as an apéritif?"
My sister addressed herself to Jill.
"Don't eat it, dear. It's—it's not very nice." She rose. "Shall we go?"
Gloomily we followed her into the library, where I opened all the windows and Berry lighted a huge cigar, in the hope of effacing the still pungent memory of the unsavoury sweet. Gradually it faded away....