"I am what is known as a good trencher-woman," replied Sally. "Roll, or toast? And do you want tea or coffee, or would you like a nice cup of chocolate to go with all that food?"
"How idly rich!" sighed Neville, drifting back to the table."Just coffee, darling."
"You're one of the idle rich yourself now," Sally reminded him. "Rich enough to buy yourself a decent suit, and to have your hair cut as well."
"I think I shall get married," said Neville meditatively.
"Get married?" exclaimed Sally. "Why?"
"Aunt says I need someone to look after me."
"You need someone to furbish you up," replied Sally, "but as for looking after you, I've a shrewd notion that in your backboneless way, Mr. Neville Fletcher, you have the whole art of managing your own life weighed up."
He looked up from his plate with his shy, slow smile. "Art of living. No management. Is Helen a witness?"
She was momentarily at a loss. "Oh, the inquest! No, she hasn't been subpoenaed so far. Which means, of course, that the police are going to ask for an adjournment."
"I expect she's glad," said Neville. "But it's a great disappointment to me. One of life's mysteries still unsolved. Which story would she have told?"