"
"Must have gone straight home and got it off his chest," said Jonah. "I
expect he's awfully proud of that letter, if the truth were known."
"Well, don't let's dwell on it," said Berry, regarding the oysters which
had been set before him. "After dinner will do. You hardly ever go down
with typhoid within six hours." He turned to Adele. "Bet you I've got
more strepsicocci than you have," he added pleasantly.
"Shut up," said Daphne. "Adele dear, d'you like oysters? Because, don't
you eat them if you don't."
"No, don't," said Berry. "If you don't, whatever you do, don't. And
whatever you don't, I will."
Adele looked at him with a mischievous smile.
"I couldn't bear," she said, "to have your blood on my head."
Then she glanced gratefully at Daphne and picked up a fork.
Mr. Herbert Bason had arisen out of the cloud of War. The time had
produced the man. The storm had burst just in the nick of time to save
the drooping theatrical interests which he controlled, and the fruit
which these had borne steadily for the best part of five long years had
been truly phenomenal. A patriot to the backbone, the bewildered
proprietor obtained absolute exemption from the Tribunal, turned the
first six rows of all his pits into stalls, and bought War Loan with
both hands.
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