"Yes, just fancy," said Berry. "Apart from the fact that it was a present from you, it'd be indecent." "It isn't that," said Jill. "But he might get an awful chill." "I know," said Berry. "I know. That's my second point. Keep the abdominal wall quarter of an inch deep in lamb's wool, and in the hottest weather you'll never feel cold. Never mind. If he mentions it again, we'll make its retention a term of the marriage settlement." Jill eyed him severely before proceeding. "It could be quite quiet," she continued; "the wedding, I mean. At a registry place----" "Mrs. Hunt's, for instance," said Berry. "--and then we could all go down to White Ladies together, and when he has to go back to fix things up in Italy, I could go, too." "My darling," said Daphne, "don't you want to be married from home? In our own old church at Bilberry? For only one thing, if you weren't, I don't think the village would ever get over it." Jill sighed. "When you talk like that," she said, "I don't want to be married at all.... Yes, I do. I want Piers. I wouldn't be happy without him. But... If only he hadn't got four estates of his own, we might----" "Five," said Berry. Jill opened her big grey eyes. "Four now, and a share in another upon his wedding day." Jill knitted her brow. "I never knew this," she said. "What's the one he's going to have?" Berry raised his eyebrows. "It's a place in Hampshire," he said. "Not very far from Brooch. They call it White Ladies." The look which Jill gave us, as we acclaimed his words, came straight out of Paradise. "I do wish he could have heard you," she said uncertainly. "I'll tell him, of course. But it won't be the same. And my memory isn't short-lived really. I'd forgotten the Angoulême dinner, but I shan't forget this lunch in a hundred years." "In another minute," said Berry, "I shall imbrue this omelet with tears. Then it'll be too salt." He seized his tumbler and raised it above his head. "I give you Monsieur Roland. May he touch the ground in spots this afternoon. Five times he's lent me an 'unter-'oss out of sheer good nature; his taste in cocktails is venerable; and whenever I see him he asks when we're going to use his car." We drank the toast gladly. Roland was a good sportsman, and throughout the season at Pau he had been more than friendly. He was to ride two races at the meeting this afternoon. "And now," said I, "get a move on. St. Jammes is ten miles off, and the road is vile. If we'd got Roland's flier, it 'ld be one thing, but Ping and Pong'll take their own time." My brother-in-law frowned. "Business first," he said shortly. "Business first. I spoke to the steward about the cutlets, and I won't have them rushed. And if that's our Brie on the sideboard--well, I, too, am in a melting mood, and it's just asking for trouble."