"I am the talker, you see," she said, "and Helen is the wise one."
"If I keep still," Helen interjected, "and let Henriette say that I'm wise, she is so convincing that lots of people think that I really am."
Phil was not the first traveller who hardly realised that he was having a meal at the same time that he sat next to a pretty girl at dinner. An exclamation from the others first apprised him that the strawberry shortcake thing had arrived. By all external criteria it might have come from the kitchen at Longfield. The main body was properly accompanied by a satellite bowl of crushed berries.
"You cut it," said Helen to Phil.
He did as bidden.
"Now!"
He tasted it with judicial care.
"Amazing!" he declared. "Let no one say that England's insularity means lack of adaptability. Next to my mother's, it is the best I've ever eaten. I must give my compliments to the cook."
"I will for you," put in Helen.
"But the object is proselytisation," said Phil. "I wait on the opinion of others."