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At length—

“Ah,” said Pardoner, “the rot’s set in. The tumult and the shouting dies, The Closeleys and the Dores depart. I’ll bet old Chippendale doesn’t last two minutes alone.”

“Got it in one,” said Sarah. “She’s up. Her guests haven’t finished, but she hasn’t seen that. She’s ordering coffee in the lounge. I’m afraid she’s terribly upset.”

“Good,” said Virgil. “And we’ve shortened ‘Slam It’s’ life. When I called you ‘darling’ just now, I thought she was going to founder. Incidentally, I said it very well, didn’t I?”

“Like a professional,” said Miss Vulliamy. “You must have said it before.”

“Never, darling.”

“O-o-oh,” said Sarah. “Any way, you needn’t say it now. The audience has dispersed.”

“But it comes so natural.”

Sarah tilted her chin.

“We are not amused,” she said stiffly. “And now to business. We’d better be married about the end of the month. What about the twenty-fifth?”

Virgil consulted a note-book.

“Can’t be done,” he said. “I’m playing polo. I can manage the twenty-fourth.”