“Have you any soap?”
“Any what?” sleepily.
“Any SOAP?”
Apparently James was not the happy possessor of that necessary of life for the steps retreated, and the bell was violently rung.
“'What, no soap?'” exclaimed Erica, laughing; “'so he died, and she very imprudently married the barber, etc.'”
The chamber maid came to answer the bell.
“Send some one to the nearest shop, please, and get me some soap.”
“And a sponge,” said another.
“And a brush and comb,” said the first.
“Oh! And some hair pins,” echoed the other. “Why, destruction! She doesn't understand a word! What's the German for soap? Give me 'Travel Talk.'”