E. G. V. Knox

“ I bowed my head above the marmalade and wept. "Arabella," I groaned, looking up at last, "what have we done that these people should continue to supply us with food? We do not love them, and they do not love us. The woman is a bromide. Her husband is even worse. ”

“ To step lightly to the telephone, ask for Charles's number, get the wrong one, ask again, find that he had gone to his office, ring him up there and get through to him, was the work of scarcely fifteen minutes. "Charles," I said, "are you using those two stalls of mine to-day?"
"Awfully sorry," he replied, but I can't go myself. I gave them away yesterday evening."
"Wurzel!" I said. "Who to?"
"To whom," he corrected gently. "To a dull man I met in the City named Messington-Smith." ”

“ Remember that I have been palpitating to see The Purple Lie for weeks."
"So have I," said Arabella. "It's sickening, but I am afraid we must pass those tickets on."
I happened that day to be lunching with my friend Charles. "The last thing in the world I want to do," I said to him, "is to oblige you in any way, but I chance to have—ahem!—purchased two stalls for The Purple Lie which I cannot make use of. I had forgotten that I am dining with some very important and—er—influential people to-morrow night. When a man moves as I do amid a constant whirl of gilt-edged engagements———"
"Ass!" ”