“Mrs. Titherington,” said Hilda. “She——”
“Fancy there being a Mrs. Tithers,” said Lalage. “How frightfully funny! What was she like to look at?”
“Never mind that for the present, Hilda,” I said. “Just tell me about the key.”
“She took your message up to him,” said Hilda, “and came down again in a minute looking very red in the face.”
“Titherington must have sworn at her,” I said. “What a brute that man is!”
“You’d better take him round the bag at once,” said Lalage. “Where is it?”
“He shan’t have the bag,” I said. “There are only eight bottles left and I want them myself.”
“Bottles of what?”
“Champagne, of course.”
“His or yours?” asked Lalage.