that Chloë had said they were to have some friends in for dancing.
He was admitted and ushered straight into Dunkle's so-called study. Presently Chloë came in. "Ah!" she said brightly, "here's the Famous Hauthor. Bisham'll be down in a moment to sign those letters which I see bulging out your breast pocket. What'll you have? Whisky? Right. Take a pew while I mix you one." She went over to a table on which stood a tantalus and some tumblers, while the Archdeacon sank into a vast arm-chair and stretched out his toes to the fire.
"Don't drown it, dear child," he said.
She brought him his refreshment. In her other hand was one for herself. This she raised to the level of her eyes. "I give you," she said, "homage to The Author of 'Trixie' and no heel taps." She drank
