"I simply must get some presents," continued my wife. "We'll start to-morrow."
I groaned.
"You can't get anything here," I protested. "And people don't expect presents when you're in the South of France."
"That's just when they do," said Adèle. "All your friends consider that it's a chance in a lifetime, and, if you don't take it, they never forgive you."
"Well, I haven't got any friends," said I. "So that's that. And you used to tell me you had very few."
"Ah," said Adèle, "that was before we were engaged. That was to excite your sympathy."
I appealed to my cousins for support.
"Nothing doing," said Jonah. "If you didn't want this sort of thing, what did you marry for? For longer than I can remember you've seen your brother-in-law led off like an ox to the shambles—he's there now—financially crippled, and then compelled to tie up and address innumerable parcels, for the simple reason that, when they're at the shops Daphne's faculty of allotment invariably refuses to function."
Jill slid an arm through her brother's, patted his hand affectionately, and looked at Adèle.
"If Boy breaks down," she said sweetly, "I'll lend you my ox. He's simply splendid at parcels."