"What for?" said the latter, as he brought the car to a standstill.
"Don't say you want to go and watch the rector's wife bidding against
her conscience and the draper for a what-not."
"Such," said I, "is our intention." I hoisted myself to my feet and,
opening the door, descended stiffly into the road. As I helped Jill to
follow me, "You push on to Highlands," I added, "and order the lunch.
We'll only stay a minute or two."
"And you never know," said Jill, "we might see something priceless."
Jonah shook his head.
"Depend upon it," he said, "the oleographs have gone to Christie's, same
as the fumed oak. Only the dud stuff's left. However, have it your own
way." With a sigh, he let in the clutch. "If you're not there by a
quarter past one, I shall begin."
Jill slid an arm through mine, which she squeezed excitedly.
"I'm sure we shall find something, Boy. I just feel it. It always
happens like this. You see, it isn't as if we were looking for a sale.
We've just run right into one. And last night I dreamed about
cretonnes."
"That settles it," said I, as the Rolls glided out of our way and we
started to cross the road. "All the same, Jonah's probably right. But I
love a sale. I'm afraid it's curiosity more than anything.
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