“Very,” said Mr Elthorne sarcastically. “You should have a fire in your bedroom.”
“Well, really, Ralph, I think I will. It is so cold getting up.”
She sneezed sharply. There was a faint click, and a tiny splash in her cup.
“Oh, dear me, look at that!” cried the lady. “Isabel, my dear, will you pass me the sugar tongs. Thanks.”
Alison burst into a fit of laughter as his aunt began solemnly to fish in her coffee cup for her pince-nez.
“You shouldn’t laugh, my dear.”
“Enough to make a donkey laugh,” said Mr Elthorne grimly.
“Did you mean that term for me, sir?” said Alison sharply.
“No, Al, no,” said his father coolly. “If it had been meant for you I should have called you an ass.”
“Thank you,” said the young man.