'Why don't
you keep it up? I like it.'
"'My dear Lady Petunia,' said I, 'as you so well put it, the National
Liberal Club carries its own recommendation. What's more, it's going
to be the saving of us.'
"'I don't see connecshun,' objected Farrell. 'They don't admit--'
"'They'll admit you,' I said; 'and that's where you'll sleep
to-night. The night porter will hunt out a pair of pyjamas and
escort you up the lift. Oh, he's used to it. He gets politicians
from Bradford and such places dropping in at all hours. Don't try
the marble staircase--it's winding and slippery at the edge. . . .
And don't stand gaping at me in that helpless fashion, but get a move
on your intelligence. . . . We're dealing with a lady in distress,
and that's our first consideration. Now I can't take you on to
Wimbledon, however willing to be shut of you: first, because it would
take time, and next because I'm not sure how much petrol's left in
the machine. So back we turn for be lights of merry London.
We deposit the Lady Petunia at--what's the address, ma'am?"
"'Never you mind,' said she helpfully.
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