Strauss lifted eyebrows of fleeting disapproval. "_Wolfie_, impossible patronymic! Tell me now, I want to get into a Jewish boarding house. You see the Doomington trade is absolutely in Jewish hands and they're threatening to undercut ... but don't let me talk shop! How about it? Blenheim Road is the sort of district, I understand? I don't generally associate myself with the Only Race, as you can perhaps appreciate, so to speak, but you're beginning to see the line of attack, eh?" Philip pressed his shoulder blades against the wall to re-establish his sense of reality. "Quite so, quite so!" he replied weakly. "You can be of help to me, old man, if you would? I mean, you know the local ropes and that's half the game!" At least here was Strauss adumbrating interests definite, if not exalted, some sort of _terminus ad quem_. How nauseatingly void and vain had life in Doomington become! Strauss proceeded. "Another thing! I've developed a sudden consuming passion for, what d'you call 'em, _creplach_, absolutely soaked in _shmaltz_, you know the sort ... and potato _blintsies_ ... and let me see, there's _mameliggy_, um, yes, _mameliggy_!" Memories of the curiously-flavoured Roumanian dish as served on special occasions by Mrs. Sewelson vividly presented themselves. "Oh, so you're a Roumanian, Mr. ... I mean, Strauss?" Philip juxtaposed. "No, no, don't misunderstand! One of my great pals in the old Mincing Lane days, Rupert Kahn--poor devil, he's doing twelve months now, somebody told me--was engaged to a _Roumanische nekaveh_ for a time, till he made off with the engagement rings and her silver combs, and you couldn't blame him either--calves like the hind legs of an elephant.--Oh, appalling! ... But I say, don't you think we'd better be moving on?" Strauss interrupted himself. They emerged from the doorway and Strauss slipped his arm through Philip's as though the dawn of their acquaintance was already ancient history. "Where the hell am I wandering off to, Massel, old dear?" Strauss speculated. "I'm afraid I'm a trifle light-headed. It must be that champagne the Inland Company so beneficently provide, eh? Half a bottle of fizz always cuts more of a dash than a whole of Sauterne, although it's not strictly the thing for lunch, would you say? Still, it's worth the difference, every time! What's your preference?" "I'm afraid I'm not much of a connoisseur myself! Palestine's wine's about as far as I've gone, with occasional whiskey and _lekkach_"--Strauss looked puzzled--"you know, those curly little cakes! It's not been quite my line, somehow!"