“No, wait a bit,” said William, smiling. But he really was anxious. “I brought them down for the kiddies.”
“Oh, my dear!” Isabel laughed, and slipped her hand through his arm. “They’d be rolling in agonies if they were to eat them. No”—she patted his hand—“you must bring them something next time. I refuse to part with my pineapple.”
“Cruel Isabel! Do let me smell it!” said Moira. She flung her arms across William appealingly. “Oh!” The strawberry bonnet fell forward: she sounded quite faint.
“A Lady in Love with a Pine-apple,” said Dennis, as the taxi drew up before a little shop with a striped blind. Out came Bobby Kane, his arms full of little packets.
“I do hope they’ll be good. I’ve chosen them because of the colours. There are some round things which really look too divine. And just look at this nougat,” he cried ecstatically, “just look at it! It’s a perfect little ballet!”
But at that moment the shopman appeared. “Oh, I forgot. They’re none of them paid for,” said Bobby, looking frightened. Isabel gave the shopman a note, and Bobby was radiant again. “Hallo, William! I’m sitting by the driver.” And bare-headed, all in white, with his sleeves rolled up to the shoulders, he leapt into his place. “Avanti!” he cried. . . .
