"Mine," I said, "has always been the sort you get for money. I have not
hitherto met the amatory variety; but if it's really marmalade I'm
prepared to have a go at it."

"And that," she said, "is very kind of you, but it's quite useless. For
the moment there's no marmalade of any kind to be had."

"None of the dark-brown variety?"

"No."

"Or the sort that looks like golden jelly?"

"Not a scrap."

"Or the old-fashioned but admirable kind? The excellent substitute for
butter at breakfast?"

"That must go like the rest. It has been a substitute for the last
time."

"Impossible," I said. "Everything is now a substitute for something
else. Marmalade started being a substitute long ago, and it isn't fair
to stop it and let the other things go on."

"Well," she said, "what are you going to do about it? If you can't get
Seville oranges how are you going to get Seville orange marmalade?"

"Oh, that's it, is it?"