morning coat, lavender spats and sponge-bag trousers, as now worn. Dressy to a degree.
“Oh, hallo!” I said. “Going strong?”
“I am in excellent health, I thank you. And you?”
“In the pink. Just been over to America.”
“Ah! Collecting local colour for one of your delightful romances?”
“Eh?” I had to think a bit before I got on to what he meant. Then I remembered the Rosie M. Banks business.
“Oh, no,” I said. “Just felt I needed a change. Seen anything of Bingo lately?”
I asked quickly, being desirous of heading the old thing off what you might call the literary side of my life.
“Bingo?”
“Your nephew.”
“Oh, Richard? No, not very recently. Since my marriage a little coolness seems to have sprung up.”
“Sorry