“I’m saving it,” he smiled.
“That’s a very obvious hint,” Nora cried. “Let’s leave them, Alice.” She sauntered to the door.
“Very well,” her hostess said, “and we’ll expect you in a few minutes, Monty. You’re coming, Michael?”
“In just a moment,” he returned. “I’ve got one more old wheeze I want to spring on Denby. He’s a capital audience for the elderly ones.”
“When Mr. Denby has recovered,” she commanded, “come down and play.”
“Certainly, my dear,” he said obediently.
“And, Michael,” she said smiling, “don’t think you’ve fooled me.”
“Fooled you,” he exclaimed innocently, “why, I’d never even dream of trying to!”
His wife moved toward Denby and took the half-finished highball from his hand.
“Michael,” she said, handing it to him, “here’s the rest of your drink.”