"You've made a mistake," I said. "I know for a fact he's going to be at the Carlton."
"No good! I know the family. The father taught them all the trick of being able to be in more than one place at the same time."
"All of them?"
"Yes."
"My dear, you're wrong. You've forgotten Mean. He's got a place at Greenwich, you know, and never leaves it. Well, I won't bother her, for she's been awfully sweet. Shall I call her a taxi?"
She nodded. "I don't think we ought to stand here any longer: the atmospheric pressure of the Labour party is already affecting my breathing. Besides, any moment I might be mistaken for a Cabinet Minister. I know a salesman's pretty bad, but I must draw the line somewhere."
With that I hailed a taxi. As it was coming to the kerb:
"You're a dear C.B.," I said. "But I would have loved to have given you lunch."
She smiled gently.
"Would you?"