“It is—what, my dear?”
“It is the head of the table.”
“The head of the table, my——”
She cocked her head and waited to catch the completed phrase.
“Dear!” he finished, not without embarrassment.
“You miss your cues dreadfully,” she went on briskly. “Tell the gendarme to pass the rolls, Richard dear.”
“Madame will have the rolls,” “Richard” managed in Italian. “I don’t think the gendarme comprehends English, so your little domestic playette is wasted, my—uh—darling.”
“Thenk you, m’lud,” the gendarme remarked in good cockney as he deftly removed the rolls and started towards madame.
“You’re English?” m’lud ejaculated.
“Me, m’lud? Yes, thenk you, m’lud.”