"Where's Mr. Larel?" she demanded.
"He'll be here in a moment. Won't you sit down? He and I are old friends."
She smiled.
"I know," she said.
"He's told me—"
"The devil he has," said I.
A little peal of laughter.
"As I feared," said I.
"My dear, you've been misled. Yes. That over there is a chair. It cost three and ninepence in the King's Road. Local colour, you know. He's putting it in his new picture, 'Luxury'."
Still smiling, she took her seat. Then: