“Oh, promise me that some day you and I
May take our love te tum, te tum, te tum.”
The chief of staff, who had also discovered that his quarters needed fumigation, raised from an uneasy pillow and groaned disgustedly.
“Stop that noise out there!” he bawled through the window beside him.
The superman recognised neither the voice nor the new quarters of the staff.
“Minion,” he said, halting and addressing the window, “hast never loved?”
Then he moved on, still in a roseate cloud the exact shade of a certain pink hat.
“That we may take our love and faith renew,
And find the hollows where those violets grew-w-w——”
His voice died away, swallowed up in distance and the night.