"What's the special row this time?" he continued, without any heated curiosity, but with distinct sympathy.
Mrs. Shiffney looked slightly more cheerful. She enjoyed telling things if the things were closely connected with herself.
"Well, I want to start for a cruise," she began. "I can't remain for ever glued to Grosvenor Square. I must move about and see something."
She had just been for a month in Paris.
"Of course. What are we here for?" observed her husband.
"You always understand! Sit down, you old thing!"
Mr. Shiffney sat down, gently pulling up his trousers.
"And the row is," she continued, shaking her shoulders, "that I want Claude Heath to come and he won't. And, since he won't, he's really the only living man I want to have on the cruise."
"Who is he?" observed Mr. Shiffney. "I've never heard of him. Is he one of your special pals?"
"Not yet. I met him at Max's. He's a composer, and I want to know what he's like."