“Yes—no!”
“You must get one.”
“Very well.”
“You had better do so at the Stores.”
Madame breathed an almost sensuous sigh which caused her husband to glance tenderly towards her.
“I know, my love, I know,” he said. “It may come some day.”
“O festum dies! Longa intervallam!” she murmured, shaking her bonnet with the manner of a martyr to duty.
Mr. Sagittarius was greatly moved.
“She’s a saint,” he whispered aside to the Prophet, as if imparting some necessary information.
“Certainly. Please go on!”