"If," said I, "I remember aright, it consisted of a white bowler, a morning-coat, golf-breeches, blue silk stockings and cloth-topped boots."
"That's right," said Berry. "And an alpenstock. I ought really to have had my cuffs trimmed with skunk," he added wistfully, "but I thought of it too late."
"I tell you what," said Adèle. "We must take some films."
"That's right," said Jill. "I promised Piers we'd send him some snapshots."
Jonah groaned.
"Surely," he said, "our passport photographs are bad enough."
"The camera," said Berry, "can never lie. Besides, I'm very fond of your passport portrait. I admit I hadn't previously noticed that your right ear was so much the larger of the two, but the cast in your left eye is very beautifully insisted upon. Mine, I must confess, is less successful. Had I been told that it was a study of the Honorary Treasurer of the Splodgeworth Goose Club on bail, I should have held it an excellent likeness. Daphne's is very good. She's wearing that particularly sweet expression of hers. You can almost hear her saying, 'Mine's a large port.' Apart, they're bad enough, but with both of them on the same document—well, why we weren't turned back at Boulogne I shall never know. Boy's, again, is lifelike."
"Shame," said Adèle. "He looks all bloated."
"I know he does, sweetheart. But that's his own fault. What's put in the mouth comes out in the flesh. The camera can never lie. And now don't choke. It's unmaidenly. And I cannot think of you as a matron. Let's see. Oh, yes. Films. Anything else?"
"Soap," said Daphne.