“Pretty tough,” I said. “Well, anyway, he’ll get one good dinner tomorrow night at the Littles’.”

“Can you guarantee that, Bertie?” asked Aunt Dahlia, earnestly. “I simply daren’t risk unleashing him on anything at all wonky.”

“They’ve got a marvellous cook. I haven’t been round there for some time, but unless he’s lost his form of two months ago Uncle Thomas is going to have the treat of a lifetime.”

“It’ll only make it all the worse for him, coming back to our steak-incinerator,” said Aunt Dahlia, a bit on the Schopenhauer side herself.