"We'd better get her to bed as quick as possible," said Wimsey to the landlady. "Have you got such a thing as a hot-water bottle?"
Mrs. Munns departed to fetch one, and Sheila caught Wimsey's hand.
"Can't you get hold of that bottle? Make her give it to you. You can. You can do anything. Make her."
"Better not," said Wimsey. "Look suspicious. Look here, Sheila, what is the bottle?"
"My heart medicine. I missed it. It's something to do with digitalin."
"Oh, lord," said Wimsey, as Robert came in.
"It's all pretty damnable," said Robert.
He thumped the fire gloomily; it was burning badly, the lower bars were choked with the ashes of a day and night.
"I've been having a talk with Frobisher," he added. "All this talk in the Club—and the papers—naturally he couldn't overlook it."
"Was he decent?"