“Rather. Topping!”
For a minute or two she listened to the comedian on the stage, and was genuinely amused by his facial contortions and wilful mispronunciations of polysyllabic words.
“He’s so silly, you can’t help laughing at him,” Elsie declared, wiping her eyes.
Then she drifted back again into the dream wherein she and Leslie Morrison figured as sole protagonists, with complete and unexplained elimination of Horace Williams.
“Look who’s here, Elsie!”
She started violently, convinced against all reason that she would see Morrison.
“Isn’t that your aunties?”
“So it is,” said Elsie without enthusiasm.
Aunt Ada and Aunt Gertie were making violent signs to her, and in the interval Horace, still evidently bent upon doing everything possible to please her, insisted upon going to speak to them, and suggested supper after the play.
“He is going it,” Elsie reflected dispassionately, not in the least touched, but a good deal amazed at the lavishness of Horace’s amends.