"—the confidence we repose in your judgment," said Daphne.
"Yes, brother," said Berry, looking up from The Sportsman. "The bath-dressing-gown has fallen upon your rounded shoulders. Ill though it becomes you, I trust that—"
"Enough," said I. "Alone I will select a bath. Doubtless you will all deplore my choice as bitterly as you will fight with one another for the privilege of using it. However. When I am dead, you will regret—"
"No, we shan't," said my brother-in-law. "We shall just bury you under another name and try to keep the obituary notices out of the papers."
I sat back in my chair and frowned. "Be good enough to pass the rolls," said I.
"You've only had four," said Berry, pushing them across. "Mind you get a good lunch at Lambeth. I'm told they do you very well at 'The Three Balls.'
"When I'm choosing a bath," said I, "I always lunch at 'The Rising Spray.'" And now, here I was, afoot upon Westminster Bridge bound for the warehouse of the firm we proposed to honour with our patronage.
I passed on into the roar of the crowded streets, and a quarter of an hour later I reached the place I sought.
Almost immediately the office-boy took me for a commercial traveller and refused point-blank to announce my arrival. I told him that I had an appointment.
"Yes," he said pleasantly. "They all 'as."