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A waitress in black with tight starched bands at the wrists and waist hung over them.

"What are you having, dear?" said Fitzie again. "I'm goin' to have a banana split. I just love banana splits. Isn't it greedy of me? And before lunch, too."

"D'you know if you don't mind, Fitzie, I won't take anything. I'm going to dine with Aunt M. and she always feeds one a dreadful lot of stuffing on Sundays. She has such old-fashioned ideas about food."

"Well, as I was telling you, Nancibel, the first time I guessed anything was wrong was about a month ago, when I noticed a young Italian waiting outside the stage door. I was in a hurry and didn't notice him until I'd brushed against him. He was very poorly dressed and smelt dreadfully of garlic but I had to admit to myself that he was goodlooking, like a young Greek god!"

"Young Greek gods probably smelt of garlic too," said Nan laughing.

The banana split had arrived in a boatshaped plate. Miss Fitzhugh took up a dab of whipped cream on her spoon.