“It’s out of the question,” said Chatteris. He added, rather remarkably, “Adeline’s awfully good.”
My cousin Melville acquiesced silently in Adeline’s goodness.
“All this, you know, is a mood. My life is made for me—and it’s a very good life. It’s better than I deserve.”
“Much,” said Chatteris defiantly.
“Ever so much,” endorsed Melville.
“Let’s talk of other things,” said Chatteris. “It’s what even the street boys call mawbid nowadays to doubt for a moment the absolute final all-this-and-nothing-else-in-the-worldishness of whatever you happen to be doing.”
My cousin Melville, however, could think of no other sufficiently interesting topic. “You left them all right at Sandgate?” he asked, after a pause.
“Except little Bunting.”
“Seedy?”