“No, I don’t, Mikey,” she admitted. “But be careful, here’s Monty and Nora.”
“Heavens!” cried Nora, looking in, “still lecturing, you two?”
“You do look rather henpecked,” Monty said, addressing his host.
“Yes,” Michael sighed, “we’ve been having a dreadful row, but I’m of a forgiving nature and I’m going to reward her. Monty, touch that button there, I want Lambart.”
Alice looked at him in wonderment. “What do you mean?”
“Wait,” he said with a chuckle. “Lambart,” he commanded, as the butler stood before him, “bring it in.” There was respect in his tone. “It ought to be at its best now.”
On a silver salver Lambart bore in and presented to his mistress a large liqueur glass filled with a clear liquid of delicate mauve hue.
Alice looked at it a little fearfully. “Oh, Mikey,” she said, “is this another new invention?”
“My best,” he said proudly.
“Can’t I share it?” she pleaded.