"I invariably spell camel with one hump," said Drewitt gravely.
"How amusing. I thought men could always spell. They're so interesting, I think. Camels I mean. I saw one in Romeo and Juliet, or was it The Luck of the Navy?"
"Chu Chin Chow," suggested Beresford.
"Ah! was it? So psychic it seemed. I love camels. You know they can go for years without water. So remarkable. I should like to keep a camel. I love pets. Have you ever kept anything, Lord Drewitt?"
"Only a taxi once. I kept it for six hours. I forgot it was there"
"And the men are so rude," continued Mrs. Crisp. "The other night one said dreadful things. I forget what they were. Most profane he was. You can't stop them. The men I mean, not the taxis. But I'm told they're getting better. There are more of them about. There's bound to be the ping of the swendulum. But you will come to breakfast, won't you?" Mrs. Crisp smiled a porcelain smile, whilst her hard little eyes glanced from one to the other, as if seeking a smouldering ember of hesitancy on which to turn her verbal spray.
"I'm sure Richard will excuse his cousin," said Lady Drewitt with a smile; but in a tone that Beresford recognised as final. "I will call for Philip myself," she announced.
"How good of you," cried Mrs. Crisp. "I didn't dare to expect it. Breakfast-parties are so rare.
