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‘Won’t you help me?’ If any man could resist her face and figure — and, if he was normal, this was not easy — the little frown would usually finish him. Basil and Elizabeth in their poorer times owed quite a number of good dinners from wealthy strangers to this little frown. To do them justice, they did not particularly care for dinners of this kind — or, more accurately, they liked the dinners all right, but preferred their own company. However, one must eat, they consoled themselves. And drink, sighed Elizabeth, as she took another one. The absence of inverted commas from Elizabeth’s thoughts is not accidental. She said very little out loud either to herself or other people. It was her expression which answered you, sometimes accompanied by a low, drawling murmur. So very different from Petula, who was pretty, inclined to be pert, and who talked incessantly. Basil and Nicholas rarely listened to her, but she did not mind. She prattled on gaily, very occasionally slowing down the pace as if to say: ‘Now, this is important; you must listen to this.’ The change in tempo often had the desired effect.
    I wonder, thought Elizabeth, if Petula has any left. I’ll go and see. She had the key to their flat and went to look. While she was there, Basil came back with Nicholas and Petula. As usual, Petula was talking.
    ‘The first was a fault, at least Nicholas called “Fault”. As a matter of fact, I wasn’t absolutely certain if it was a fault. You know it’s sometimes awfully difficult to see on the Browns’ court. Anyway, after Nicholas had called “Fault”—’
    ‘Petula,’ said Nicholas, pleasantly, ‘could you pipe down for just a moment?’
    ‘Darling,’ said Petula, ‘I’m so sorry. I won’t say another word for five minutes — or do I mean five seconds? It’s funny what an awful long time even a second is, while a minute, if you really stop and count it, seems like hours. I remember once . . .’
    ‘Oh, Petula,’ said Nicholas.
    ‘How would it be if you bought me one of those things they used to put on a scold’s mouth? I remember seeing a picture in a book in that hotel we were staying at — now where was it — wasn’t it in the Lake District — ?’
    ‘Don’t start talking about hotels,’ said Basil. ‘I’m beginning to think we shall never see the inside of one again — except the sort which has up in large letters outside “FOR GENTLEMEN ONLY”, and spells “accommodation” with one m. Hell, there’s hardly any gin left. Elizabeth,’ he called. She returned from her fruitless search a few minutes later.
    ‘I’m sorry,’ said Nicholas. ‘We had the last drop yesterday.’
    ‘Now,’ said Basil firmly, ‘we’ve got to do something. I’m tired of this. Not enough to eat, not enough to drink, no theatres, hardly a cinema, no holidays, no riding, no golf. Yes, I know,’ he added to Elizabeth, who, without saying a word, indicated that ‘you have us.’ ‘But you can’t live on caviare.’ Elizabeth gave him a look which, five years before, would have made up for the shortage of gin.
    ‘I quite agree with you, old man,’ said Nicholas. ‘Things are getting out of hand. We’d better make an appreciation.’
    Two years previously Basil and Nicholas, posing as uncle and nephew, had set out together, without their wives, to make their fortunes and, it must be conceded, that they had not done at all badly out of Tapworth Magna. Elizabeth and Petula had been a little against their husbands going away for so long, and Basil himself; who had worked out the idea of ‘The Disagreeable Man’, had considered the risk of leaving the lovely Elizabeth. Their circumstances were such, however, that they could not afford to be too particular, and the idea seemed such a good one that they had all decided to take a chance on it. Their reunion after the reduction of Tapworth Magna was a very happy one. Basil described Mrs Stroud to Elizabeth in terms which made her very