'Now Mr. Collins that's unkind,' said I, laying down my knife.
He began to grin again. 'It's true,' he insisted.
'It suggests such an immeasurable stuffiness,' I complained.
'It isn't my fault,' said he grinning.
'But perhaps I deserve it because I mentioned a ring. Let me tell you, as man to man, that you must buy no brooches for Vicki.'
'A pin, then?'
'No pins.'
'A necklace, then?'
'Nothing of the sort. What would her parents say? Give her chocolates, a bunch of roses, perhaps a book—but nothing more. If you do you'll get into a nice scrape.'
Joey looked at me. 'What sort of scrape?' he asked curiously.