It sailed over some lime trees and crashed out of sight into some foliage.
Then I called the terrier and strode past my brother-in-law in the direction of the postern.
Berry fell in behind and followed me without a word.
"But why," said I, "shouldn't you tell me the day of your birth? I'm not asking the year."
"1895," said Adèle.
I sighed.
"Why," she inquired, "do you want to know?"
"So that I can observe the festival as it deserves. Spend the day at Margate, or go to a cinema, or something. I might even wear a false nose. You never know. It's an important date in my calendar."
"How many people have you said that to?"