“Was I horrid?”
“You looked too perfectly orchidaceous.”
“Orchidaceous?”
“Like the little women of Outa-Maro.”
Miss Sinquier sat up.
“What is there for breakfast?” she asked.
“Do you like porridge?”
“Oh, Réné!”
Miss Mant raised a bare shoulder and crushed it to an ear.
“Really,” she remarked, “I’m at a loss to know what to give you, Sally; I sometimes ask myself what Juliet took....”