“I believe so, now that I have looked into the matter.”
“Don’t you think you are acting rather shabbily?”
“So Jack Pommery says.”
“And Jack Pommery is right,” exclaimed Geraldine, clinching her little left hand and bringing it down into the rosy palm of her right.
“Do you know Jack Pommery?” asked Percival.
“I—I have met him.”
“Here?”
“No.”
“It must have been in Ireland, then,” earnestly.
“It was.”