"When?" he asked.
"Now," I said; "this afternoon. But we must hurry. Her servants have orders not to let anyone in after four."
"You're sure she won't mind?" he asked.
"Absolutely," I said. "My friends are hers. I've introduced lots of people to her and she's delighted."
He smiled blissfully.
Having obtained a taxi I gave an address in Regent's Park, but told the driver to stop at a shop on the way "She loves sweets," I explained.
"They all do," he replied, with the sententiousness of gallantry, as though speaking from abysmal depths of knowledge.
"Yes, but she has a more catholic taste than most," I said. "She's the only brunette—or, if it comes to that, the only blonde—I ever knew with a weakness for—well, I'll make you guess."
"Preserved ginger?" he suggested.
"No," I said.