“Go and dance with Meg. She only knows Tommy Babington.”
“Like the lid up?”
15
Miriam’s rhythmic clangour doubled its resonance in the tiled conservatory as the great lid of the piano went up.
“Magnifique, Mirry, parfaitement magnifique,” intoned Tommy Babington, appearing in the doorway with Meg on his arm.
“Bonsoir, Tomasso.”
“You are like an expressive metronome.”
“Oh—nom d’un pipe.”
“You would make a rhinoceros dance.”
Adjusting his pince-nez he dexterously seized tall Meg and swung her rapidly in amongst the dancers.