"If," said Berry, "we survive this meal, I'll write to Jonah and tell
him to bring one back with him. If he can't raise one in Paris, he ought
to be shot. And now let's have a sweep on the savoury. I'll bet it
tastes of paraffin and looks like a pre-War divvot."
"Let's try advertising," said Jill. "Katharine mayn't have had a good
one."
"I agree," said I. "I'll get one out to-night. A real snorter."
In silence the traces of the course which had provoked the outburst were
removed, clean plates were set before us, and the footman advanced with
a dish of nauseous-looking fritters.
Daphne instinctively recoiled.
"Hullo," said Berry. "Another gas attack?"
With an effort my sister recovered herself and took one with a shaking
hand. Loyally Jill followed her example, and, with tears running down
her cheeks, induced a glutinous slab to quit the silver, to which it
clung desperately.
I declined the delicacy.
With compressed lips the servant offered it to my brother-in-law.
Berry shook his head.
"Mother wouldn't like me to," he said. "But I can see it's very tasty."
He turned to his wife. "What a wonderful thing perfume is! You know, the
smell of burnt fat always makes me think of the Edgware Road at dusk."
"Hush," said I, consulting the _menu_. "_De mortuis._ Those were banana
fritters. That slimy crust enshrined the remains of a once succulent
fruit."
"What?" said Berry. "Like beans in amber? How very touching! I suppose
undertakers are easier than cooks. Never mind. It's much cheaper. I
shan't want to be reminded of food for several days now." He looked
across the table to Daphne. "After what I've just seen, I feel I can
give the savoury a miss. Do you agree, darling? Or has the fritter acted
as an _aperitif_?"
My sister addressed herself to Jill.
"Don't eat it, dear. It's--it's not very nice." She rose. "Shall we go?"
Gloomily we followed her into the library, where I opened all the
windows and Berry lighted a huge cigar, in the hope of effacing the
still pungent memory of the unsavoury sweet. Gradually it faded away....
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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