"And may it be years before she arrives at The Beauties!" mumbled Percy Flyaway when they had drunk the toast.
"I hope you will all welcome her at a grand reception here in—about a month or six weeks." I remembered just in time that I had best not fix a date, as something might intervene.
A storm of questions, exclamations and remarks ensued.
"Lovely?"
"As fair as poet's dreaming."
"Die Vernon?"
"Not for Joe!"
"The Soprano?"
A shake of my head.
"Anabel?"