"Well, I never thought I should live to say it," said Berry, "but, after what I've gone through this morning, if Planchet were to totter in this afternoon, laden with at once cheap and pretentious goods, I should fall upon his bull neck."
"Who," said I, "are the Marats?"
"They're the married couple who run the flat. I believe they're wonderful. Sally says she never knew what service was before."
"I do hope," said Jill, twittering, "they don't make any mistake."
"I've no fear of that," said Adèle. "I can't answer for the man, because we didn't see him, but Madame Marat's no fool."
"Incidentally," said I, "it's one thing giving Planchet our address, but it's quite another persuading him to fetch up. He may have other sheep to shear."
"We can only pray that he hasn't," said Daphne. "It's too much to expect him to have another shawl, but I should like the first pick of what he has."
Berry regarded his wife.
"If," he said, "you will swear to select from his wares all the blinkin' presents with which you propose to signalise this Yuletide, I'll—I'll tie them all up without a word."
"Same here," said I. "Our gifts will cost us more, but we shall live the longer."