The girl threw back her head and laughed. I observed that she had nice teeth.
"Name of Childe," she said in a sweet voice. "After all, we can't expect him to remember everything. Wasn't my brother in your regiment?"
"I knew I'd seen you somewhere," said I. "The last time you were on a towel, leaning against a bottle of hairwash. That was in Flanders in 1916."
"That," said Berry, "will do. Miss Childe and I came here to lunch, not to listen to maudlin memories of the Great War. Did I ever tell you that a Spaniard once compared me to that elusive bloom to be found only upon the ungathered apricot?"
"How much did you lend him?" said I.
"Perhaps he knew more about ferns," said Miss Childe.
"Blind from birth, I suppose," said Jonah's voice.
My brother-in-law rose to his feet and looked about him with the expression of one who has detected an offensive odour.
"He was a man of singular insight and fine feeling," he said. "At the time of his outburst I was giving evidence against him for cruelty to a bullock. And now, for goodness' sake, somebody collect Jill and let's have some lunch."