“Depuis le jour ou je me suis donnee.”
“You look like 'Louise.'”
Andrews turned round.
Henslowe was sitting on the edge of the bed with his hair in disorder, combing his little silky mustache with a pocket comb.
“Gee, I have a head,” he said. “My tongue feels like a nutmeg grater.... Doesn't yours?”
“No. I feel like a fighting cock.”
“What do you say we go down to the Seine and have a bath in Benny Franklin's bathtub?”
“Where's that? It sounds grand.”
“Then we'll have the biggest breakfast ever.”
“That's the right spirit.... Where's everybody gone to?”