‘…But I’ll have to get a decent frock if there is such a thing in Wilvercombe.’

‘Well, get a wine-coloured one, then. I’ve always wanted to see you in wine-colour. It suits people with honey-coloured skin. (What an ugly word “skin” is.) “Blossoms of the honey-sweet and honey-coloured menuphar” - I always have a quotation for everything - it saves original thinking.’

‘Blast the man!’ said Harriet, left abruptly alone in the blue-plush lounge. Then she suddenly ran out down the steps and leapt upon the Daimler’s running-board.

‘Port or sherry?’ she demanded.

‘What?’ said Wimsey, taken aback.

‘The frock - port or sherry?’

‘Claret,’ said Wimsey. ‘Château Margaux. 1893 or thereabouts. I’m not particular to a year or two.’

He raised his hat and slipped in the clutch.