"Grief," said Pennoyer, "if a man loves a woman better than the whole universe, how much does he love the whole universe?"
"Gawd knows," said Grief piously. "Although it ill befits me to answer your question."
Wrinkles and Florinda came with the Welsh rarebits, very triumphant. "There," said Florinda, "soon as these are finished I must go home. It is after eleven o'clock.—Pour the ale, Grief."
At a later time, Purple Sanderson entered from the world. He hung up his hat and cast a look of proper financial dissatisfaction at the remnants of the feast. "Who has been——"
"Before you breathe, Purple, you graceless scum, let me tell you that we will stand no reference to the two violets here," said Pennoyer.
"What the——"
"Oh, that's all right, Purple," said Grief, "but you were going to say something about the two violets, right then. Weren't you, now, you old bat?"
Sanderson grinned expectantly. "What's the row?" said he.
"No row at all," they told him. "Just an agreement to keep you from chattering obstinately about the two violets."
"What two violets?"