“Why did you choose it?” snarled Sir John.
“Well, it was the best—we’ve always had the best.”
“Next time you can try the second best as a new experience.”
“Your father really is hopeless,” said Lady Alard in a loud whisper to her daughter Doris.
“Sh-sh-sh,” said Doris, equally loud.
“Very poor as an aside, both of you,” said Sir John.
The Reverend George Alard coughed as a preliminary to changing the conversation.
“Our Christmas roses are better than ever this year,” he intoned.
His wife alone supported him.
“They’ll come in beautifully for the Christmas decorations—I hope there’s enough to go round the font.”