"I'm glad of it,"said Ursula. "Nasty German rubbish. I wonder it didn't contaminate the cellar. Now we must drink something patriotic instead."
"What about good old English water?"
"My dear! With all those spies simply picnicing round the reservoirs! Goodness knows what they've put in. My idea was a nice, not too-expensive, champagne, like what they get for the subscription dances."
"Dearest! Ask me to go out into the road and sing the Marseillaise. Ask almost anything of me to display my pride and affection for our brave allies, but do not, do not ask me to drink sweet champagne at lunch!"
"You shall choose it yourself," said Ursula, "and it isn't for lunch, but dinner. At lunch you will continue to drink beer. Only it will be English, not German."
"Glorious beer! C'est magnifique!"
"Mais ce n'est pas lager!" said Ursula quickly.
This was rightly held to constitute one trick to her, and we resumed.
"About clothes," I said.
"There was an article I read in some paper," observed Ursula, "pointing out that if everybody did without them no one would mind."